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msftsnmemes · 4 months ago

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BOJACK HORSEMAN STARTERS.

unassorted taken from several audios & clip compilations. TRIGGER WARNINGS for mental health issues, alcoholism, suicidality, depression, drug abuse, and various other heavy topics that the show covers.

you'd probably sleep a lot better at night if you just admitted to yourself that you're a selfish coward who just takes whatever he wants and doesn't give a sh*t about who he hurts.

things don't become traditions because they're good, bojack. they become good because they're traditions.

you were born broken; that is your birthright. and now, you can fill your life with projects, books, movies, and little girlfriends; but that won't make you whole.

i don't understand how people live. it's incredible to me that people wake up every morning and say: 'yeah, another day, let's do it.

in the grand scheme of things, we are just tiny specs that will one day be forgotten. so it doesn't matter what we did or how we'll be remembered. the only thing that matters is right now. this moment.

believe it or not, the time's arrow neither stands still nor reverses; it merely matches forward.

there's no such thing as good and bad people. we're all people who do good and lousy things sometimes. all we can do is try not to do bad stuff and more good stuff.

the world is unforgiving enough as it is. the least we can do is find a way to forgive each other and ourselves.

when i almost drowned, i decided i would never again be weaker than water.

there will be times when i will see someone in trouble. you'll want to rush in there and do whatever you can to save them.

but you must stop yourself because there are some people you can't save.

because those people will thrash and struggle and try to take you down with them.

life is just one long, hard kick in the urethra for many people.

sometimes i feel like my whole life is just a series of loosely-related wacky misadventures.

that's the problem with life, right? either you know what you want, and then you don't get what you want, or you get what you want, and then you don't know what you want.

my life is a mess right now, and i compulsively take care of other people when i don't know how to take care of myself.

always take every opportunity that comes your way because opportunities are like sneezes from god, and when god sneezes, you can't say god bless you to god. so instead, you have to take the opportunity.

sometimes life's a b*tch, and you keep living.

you can live your whole life like a puzzle, put together from the pieces of different sets.

but at some point, you start to think it's you. you're the piece that doesn't quite fit.

and you spend so long with that feeling that the feeling becomes your home.

and it can be jarring when you discover one day that you suddenly don't feel that way anymore. at first, you don't trust it, but then, gradually, you do.

it's not about being happy; that is the thing. i'm just trying to get through each day.

i can't keep asking myself, 'am i happy?' it just makes me more miserable.

i don't know if i believe in it, real, lasting happiness.

all those perky, well-adjusted people you see in movies and tv shows? i don't think they exist.

you know, sometimes i feel like i was born with a leak, and any goodness i started with just slowly spilt out of me, and now it's all gone. and i'll never get it back in me.

i've had a lot of what i thought were rock bottoms, only to discover another, rockier bottom underneath.

loss is a collaborative art between the people who leave us and those who remain. we dance with the shadows of their absence.

one day, you're going to look around, and you're going to realize that everybody loves you, but nobody likes you. and that is the loneliest feeling in the world.

when i was your age, i got sad a lot. i didn't come from such a great home, but one day, i started running, which seemed to make sense, so i just kept running.

when you get sad, you run straight ahead and keep running forward, no matter what. people in your life will try to hold you back and slow you down, but you don't let them.

don't you stop running, and don't you ever look behind you. there's nothing for you behind you. all that exists is what's ahead.

i'm this close to falling off the deep end. i know i'm smiling right now, but the light inside me is dying.

i need to go take a shower, so i can't tell if i'm crying or not.

loss is a collaborative art between the people who leave us and those who remain. we dance with the shadows of their absence.

settle. because otherwise you're just gonna get older and harder, and more alone.

you're going to do everything you can to fill that hole with friends, your career, and meaningless sex, but the hole doesn't get filled.

i know i'm not the perfect guy. i actually kind of hate myself a lot of the time. but when i'm with you, i don't hate myself.

i like being around you, and i don't know if i ever told you that in so many words, so i'm telling you.

same thing that always happens. you didn't know me, and then you fell in love with me. and now you know me.

everybody deserves to be loved.

one day you're going to look around and realize that everyone loves you, but no one likes you, which is the loneliest feeling in the world.

when you look at someone through rose-coloured glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.

it's so easy for you to love me when everything's good.

it's important that you know i cared. you think i didn't care because i put up walls.

but i cared so much about you. i wanted you to respect me.

i wanted you to love me. i was so afraid that you would know that.

the universe is a cruel, uncaring void. the key to being happy isn't a search for meaning.

it's to keep yourself busy with unimportant nonsense, and eventually, you'll die.

i don't know what to tell you. i'm happy for the first time in my life, and i'm not going to feel bad about it.

it takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are and even longer to see it doesn't have to be that way.

only after you give up everything can you begin to find a way to be happy.

do you ever look up at the stars and feel like they're tiny holes in the sky, sucking out all the oxygen, and suddenly you can't breathe because you're thinking about how small you are and how meaningless it all is?

it is so cruel to let people love you. all you are doing is promising you'll one day break their hearts.

there is no shame in dying for nothing. that's why most people die.

not understanding that you're a horrible person doesn't make you less of a horrible person.

it gets easier. every day it gets a little easier. but you gotta do it every day — that's the hard part. but it does get easier.

fool me once; shame on you. but teach a man to fool me, and i'll be fooled for the rest of my life.

i bought into this idea that i was this thing that couldn't be changed. the main thing i think about is how stupid i am that i didn't do this sooner.

i wasted so many years being miserable because i assumed that was the only way to be.

i don't want to do that anymore.

i understand that feeling of needing to bottle up your guilt and not burden other people with it.

you think you're protecting them from your toxicity. you convince yourself that you're being selfless, but it comes out in other ways and infects everything.

#long tw #bojack horseman rp meme #bojack rp meme #bojack horseman quotes #rp meme #angst rp meme #sentence starters #rp starters #ask meme #inbox meme #love me some reality checks through a show abt a washed up 90s star who is also a talking horse

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beingdreeyore · 11 months ago

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This Christmas didn't go as planned. Not even a little bit.

My parents are still essentially homeless so I was unable to go home for Christmas. On one hand it meant less family drama, but it's hard to put into words just how much you will want to go home after your parents have had a brush with death and when they're clearing everything they own out of your childhood home and putting it on the kerb for waste collection.

I basically begged to go back and help, but they said no. My sister's roof also ended up collapsing in one part of the house (the living area) so I couldn't stay with her either. My brother had his in-laws with him as their place was also inundated with flood water. I had nowhere to go.

S the ex contacted me though. He said he'd be here. That I wouldn't be alone. But then of course he disappeared. He just never showed up. No explanation. No text. No nothing. Even now I haven't heard a word from him. He is actively ignoring me. He just didn't turn up for Christmas and is now pretending I don't exist.

So there were tears yesterday on Christmas morning and again today. The isolation has been overwhelming. On a brighter note though I made a garlic and thyme beef tenderloin with roast potatoes and a homemade mushroom sauce, a giant Christmas salad, and mini pavlovas. It was hours and hours of prep time. There was no shortage of delicious food in the apartment. There was just a shortage of people to eat it and an overwhelming sadness that I didn't have anyone to serve it to other than myself.

I had a chat with a close friend last night about the monstrosity that has been my love life over the last four years (let's do a recap: two bosses both already in relationships, an ex who flits in and out as he wants, and a guy I genuinely fell for who actually just wanted to screw me at work. Monstrosity is an accurate word). Despite how much I hate it and despite how hard it will be to venture back out there at this, the heaviest body weight of my life, I went back on the apps this morning. There was a resounding cheer from the three friends I told... I think they just want all the drama of the last four years left in the past. I understand their frustration but I'm sure it doesn't compare to my own at living it...

It was the loneliest Christmas I've ever had. Once again I set out determined to have a good Christmas and Christmas had its way with me. But I don't want to be in this place again next year. I want to be able to share it with someone who cares about me. So I guess I have to do this, so that even if I don't meet anyone in the next twelve months at least when Christmas arrives I can say I tried.

This is very much my idea of hell, so please, wish me luck...

S x

PS. Oh, and as a sweet little Christmas present I also got Covid. This is despite not seeing another human for a whole week. Christmas won this round.

#Christmas

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ponderingthepassion · 2 years ago

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One. Meet The Beatles.

Harry Nilsson said that 1 was the loneliest number. Yet, as an eccentric 10-year-old, I was not alone anymore.

It was Christmas Eve, 2010. I had not been a 10-year-old except for three weeks but was eccentric for as long as I remember. With my odd personality, making friends was not my strong suit. Naturally, I felt ostracized. At this point, I had been questioning what was wrong with me for years.

I grew up as a child of divorced parents, so holidays were full of planning and logistics while it seemed that my brother and I were tossed from one home to the other. That Christmas though, we would stay Christmas Eve night with my dad and have Christmas morning with him, after having spent the earlier part of the day with our maternal grandparents. Then, we would pack up the presents we wanted to bring back to our primary home and spend the rest of the festive day with our mom.

Explaining the logistics still has my head in a spin. The important part was that I was under the care of my dad on this very day because it seemed that the universe aligned so perfectly.

As my brother and I spent the afternoon awaiting the night to come so we could fall asleep and bring on the morning faster, my father's girlfriend at the time stopped by for a little bit. Being together was not bizarre because while they were together, they spent ample time together. My father and his girlfriend never married and the relationship fizzled out, she became a second mom to me. I knew then and still know that she cares about me, even if it has been years since I've seen her.

During her visit, she brought along Target gift cards for my brother and me. We were weird kids with weird interests and I look back now and think about how impossible it was to buy gifts for us. The gift cards made sense. For my dad, she naturally brought more personalized gifts.

He was no musician and was a hobby guitar player if you could even say that. Yet, he was more passionate about music than some trained musicians that I have met. His passion was more of an obsession. It shaped me naturally as I took on his genetics, as he immersed me into his little world. My youngest memories are of sitting in his music room on the upper level of our house before my parents divorced. The radio blared with the likes of many Elvis tunes, Boris the Spider by The Who, and I stayed mesmerized and amused. I learned the lyrics almost subconsciously to some of my favorite songs.

A CD seemed to be a good gift for someone so musical (this was before he lugged his record collection back out, which would come a few years later). My dad had a vast collection, with the most noteworthy titles being his copies of the complete Elvis masters. The addition of a greatest hits compilation by one of the few artists that rivaled Elvis' success did not seem to be anything extraordinary.

For me, that one CD was life-changing. The CD did not present itself as anything more than a greatest-hits package. The red and yellow design was more reminiscent of that of a fast food company, rather than something fitting of what could be hailed as the greatest band of all time. Regardless of any physical appearance, my dad asked if I had heard of The Beatles.

Sure, I had heard of them, or at least I thought I had. I could not name any of their songs, but at least the name sounded familiar. Even if I had heard of their name, my dad wanted to play me the CD. So, I sat back on the couch and listened.

This was different. This was unlike anything I had heard before. One Direction had been formed by Simon Cowell on the X-Factor only a few months prior. Justin Bieber’s “Baby” could not be ignored, no matter what anyone did. The music that came from my dad’s stereo was captivating. It was different.

It was as if everything in my life clicked for once. With my awkward nature, I was eager to find something I could cling to. I did not want this CD to stop. I knew my dad only wanted to listen to a few songs. After all, we had to go to bed soon so Christmas could arrive in the morning.

It would be fitting to mention that I could not remember any gifts I received that Christmas. However, the gift of listening to that CD is one that I still hold so close. This simple CD catalyzed my musical obsession. This was not some pre-teen phase.

Many might have thought that I would be obsessed with The Beatles for a few short months and then abandon them and start listening to the music my peers listened to. Yet, that did not happen. The obsession grew over the years and now. Being obsessed with music and being discussed as a walking encyclopedia of music became a part of my demeanor. It was very evident that the obsession did not fizzle out at all. In fact, it got more intense.

However, the CD was what I needed. My brain still recognizes the track listing with Eleanor Rigby being followed by Penny Lane. For instance, listening to Revolver and hearing Eleanor Rigby, not hearing the starting lyrics of Penny Lane follow, is still a bit jarring, even in the present day. The familiarity, as a lonely ten-year-old became so comforting.

That same lonely ten-year-old clung to The Beatles like the friends she never had. I am still not certain as to why I became so obsessive. Yet, trying to decipher the whys and looking back with a more mature perspective seems to offer that I engrossed myself like this. If I occupied myself and my time so heavily, I would not feel alone. These artists could not judge or avoid me, but I could invite them into my life when I wanted to. I had control. After all, up until the last year, it seemed like these musicians were mere characters.

At a point, it became more than just a hobby to fill a void. At a point, it became almost life-saving. I wanted to engross myself more in the stories behind the music I listened to, and read. I read a lot. It did not matter. I read so many books, but I would not be limited to books, but also articles, and learning what others had learned and decided to share. I was an information sponge.

Yet, through this pursuit of knowledge, I learned of the humanity of these musicians. Their humanity, tinged with negative experiences, was not unlike those I faced as a hopeless adolescent. Yet, becoming aware of the humanistic struggles of these musicians gave me some hope back. They seemed larger than life and unreal, but they were just people.

I needed that hope to get through the hand I had at my disposal. Growing up was not happy, but the music and the stories behind the music could bring me moments of fleeting bliss and contentment. I needed anything to help me make it through. I still lean on music as a primary coping mechanism. I let it revitalize and rejuvenate me when I feel detached from myself and my surroundings.

Some individuals do not believe in miracles, and I am not quite sure where I stand. Yet, divine timing is evident. Something out there knew of the hardships and the journey that I was about to endure and knew what I would need to make it through on the other side.

When introduced to The Beatles, I was ten and had already experienced some evils of the world. I knew of the horrible ways in which some individuals presented themselves. I was not coping well with this exposure, but I had been gifted hope in the form of a CD. The world was not all nasty.

After all, art was still present and was not tarnished. I had a gift in the ability to enjoy it. I also had a gift with my passion and earnest ability to go into something with everything in my soul that I had, which included something as mundane as liking a band.

I was still odd and eccentric, but so were the musicians I listened to and read about. They made it okay to be weird because if they had not been unique, they would not have made it. I needed that confirmation. I needed confirmation that I would make it out of the other side because at times, I did not think that would ever happen. Yet, I can say that it did happen.

It is very safe to say that after all this time, I have grown, both physically as I am no longer a ten-year-old little girl, but also within myself and my passions. Twelve years have passed (as of writing), since that Christmas Eve. I am now confident that my main passion in life is music and to do something with it, whatever it could be, is my main desire.

It could seem silly to say that a CD changed my life, but at last, I was not alone anymore and I never would be again.

(EDIT: I started this piece sometime last year and would like to say that I have since reconnected with my father, but did not want to edit the above to reflect that, to keep the integrity of my feelings throughout the entire writing process. I have also since then seen my “second mom” and she is still as lovely as she was back then.)

#music #beatles #thebeatles #writing #creativewriting #narrative #cd #melanchonic #lonesome #loneliness #growingup #adolescence #comingofage #musicblog #blogging #blog

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martygraves · 5 months ago

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(Ported over from my personal blog.)

If you'd like to know why Creep is one of my favorite film franchises of all time, and why I'm so excited that they've announced a series showcasing all of Josef's other kills, here you go:

I watched the first Creep movie for the first time during quarantine lockdown. It was like March of 2021? (Hold on, let me link the episode of my podcast for that.) (Yup. Don’t mind my pre-T voice.) That was like one of the loneliest times of my life. You know how it was, you were there, too. Fucking. Awful. I felt like there was just this bubble of sadness around me and nobody could get through to me. Sure, I had friends I could talk to over the internet, but that can only get you so far. Especially when they have their own lives and you can’t see them face to face.

One night, my two best college buddies and I decided we should watch it for our podcast. That was the one thing we could do that we could talk to each other consistently with, so we went for it. And, fuck. You can hear in that episode how freaked out that movie made us! We talk about human behaviors and the compulsion to kill and where that stems from, the relationship between politeness and gender roles, and lot of other related topics in that episode. It’s a smart film that knows how to suck you into the reality; you see these two men up close and personal, their odd behaviors, and the found footage formatting and intimate setting make you feel as though you are there witnessing all of this with them. As them. Those awkward moments make you cringe; watching Josef admit to stalking Aaron, catching Josef on the lies, tubby time. Oh, god, tubby time.

And then there was the ending. The moment where the camera is left in the car, you’re left in the car, and you just have to watch as Josef puts on the Peachfuzz wolf mask, flourishes his jacket, and buries that axe into Aaron’s head. The shot is static. It’s matter-of-fact, and that’s why it’s so horrifying. He’s dead. You followed this shy, awkward guy on his journey getting to know an oddball all the way to the lake, and he’s dead now. And then, the murderous oddball looks directly into the camera, and while he says Aaron’s name, he’s looking at you as he says,“That is why I love you. And that is why you will always be my favorite. Of them all.” Like he was thanking you for witnessing this event.

I felt like there was someone behind me for hours afterward. Josef had somehow gotten into my home. And that’s how it started.

Months later, we watched the second one. (Episode link here.) Of course we loved it. I loved it. It wasn’t as scary as the first one, but the intimacy and emotional connection was still there. That feeling of watching two people through their own eyes was still there. Only this time, they were trying to out-weird each other, or at least come together on a level they could both understand. The thing is, they were still misunderstanding each other. Sara is only comfortable with Josef’s Aaron’s freakiness because she thought he was lying to her when he wasn’t. The moment she starts to take it seriously is when she decides to leave, and that’s when Josef Aaron pulls out the lies and the deceit to bring her back in. And when she comes back in, that’s when she starts being genuine, letting her guard down, and that’s when she gets into trouble. She starts to believe in the watered-down version of Josef Aaron, seeing the front of softness as a vulnerability in him, and to a point, it is. But she totally disregards everything else that has happened during this day as some kind of ruse, when she should have kept those moments in mind. He’s still a killer, and dangerous, even if he plays it like he isn’t.

Sara ultimately pays the price for entertaining his whims. I guess Aaron did, too, but in a different way. While Aaron died and became a part of Josef, Sara now cannot get rid of him. He tries to kill her, and she runs, refusing his gift of death and absorption into himself, but now he follows her. She’s literally moved on, but like a ghost or a bad dog with attachment issues, he still follows her. He gave her his heart, after all.

And then I got to putting two and two together on why exactly all of this was appallingly appealing to me. I was alone. I was drifting further into this state of paradoxical nothing-pain. And suddenly, I was being welcomed into a dynamic in which I was wanted. It was an obsessive want, but I was wanted. He got me. They all did. Josef, Aaron, Sara. Suddenly I’m seeing aspects of my loneliness on screen. The slow reveal of the odd personality traits, the waiting to see the reaction. Pulling those traits back in when they’re not met with the tolerance I wish was there. The staying when I feel so uncomfortable because I want to understand. Upping the ante in an act of bonding. Feeling like I’ve found someone who’s on my wavelength, only to find they weren’t as okay with the whole me as I thought. The sudden urge to end it all. To kill the relationships. Move on, knowing they were dead, but I could still have the memories. They were getting distant. I could do it, you know. Just end it all right then.

Of course, I didn’t do that. But I felt it. I felt it a lot during that time.

I’ve not been super mentally healthy over my time being alive. I’ve been hospitalized for it. Not a fun experience, by the way. But that was another aspect that just drew me closer to Peachfuzz. He’s funny, and weird, and unstable. Always lying to appeal to the people around him because he wants them to stay, for sincere and sinister reasons. He’s terrible and lonely. I was terrible and lonely.

And there it was. Crystal clear. Los aguas milagros de corazón. I was taking comfort in a manifestation of something dark that I saw in myself. A mischievous, funny, isolated, totally fucked-in-the-head, murderous darkness. I wasn’t alone in that room anymore, and yeah, perhaps my company should’ve been something not so, well, creepy, but I thanked him for being there. I could put a face with the feeling, and the nothing-pain started going away.

He’s a friend of mine now. And I love him a lot.

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

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Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle.

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea, how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once.

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction.

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years ago

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hiii :) for the song prompts could i get #11,16 & 29 for sweet pea x ex!reader who both still have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it, please? 🤍

hey! i love this idea so much so i’m so excited for you to read it! thank you for requesting! also, i got a little carried away, so sorry!

lyrics: things will change they always do, but my heart will stay open for you (stay open: maya hawke)

if you dance with me, darling, if you take me home. will we talk in the morning? (will we talk?: sam fender)

the millisecond that you're away i get the loneliest feeling (give me a try: the wombats)

“I can’t believe we’re here.” You say quietly and he nods, both of you looking at the paintings on the walls and silently wishing that you were anywhere else.

“I know.” He replies, glancing at you quickly before looking straight ahead.

Somebody behinds you coughs, and you can’t quite figure out if it’s a genuine one or if they’re just trying to tell you shut you up in a polite way. Either way you roll your eyes and sit properly in your seat, however you can still feel Sweet Pea’s arm against yours, the soft material of his blazer rubbing against your bare arms making you hyper-aware that he is, in fact, here.

It’s barely been five months since you broke up, and things are still...awkward, to say the least. And it's made even more awkward by the fact that you’re sat together at Fangs and Kevin’s wedding, despite both of you trying to get them to change the seating plan and both of them telling you that they’re stressed enough with this stupid wedding and so you’ll sit on the ceiling if that’s what they tell you to do, that made the both of you shut up and accept your fate.

You’re gonna spend a day, forcing smiles and pretending to be okay with the fact that the other is right next to you, yet you can’t touch them, no matter how much you want to.

“We did it!” Kevin cheers when he pulls away from Kevin, the two of them grinning from ear to ear and holding their hands in the air. Everybody stands and claps, while they walk back down the aisle, now husband and husband and both of them looking so happy that you think they’re gonna burst.

“Congratulations.” You grin and pull them both into a tight hug, squeezing you’re two best friends and trying to convey just how excited you are for them.

“Yeah, congrats guys.” Sweet Pea adds and leans around you to hug them both. You move back awkwardly and send an uncomfortable smile to Toni who just sends you an odd thumbs up before chatting with Veronica and Betty.

“We’ll see you both at the reception right?” Kevin adds. He tries to mask the fact that he’s on edge, worrying about whether everyone is gonna turn up, with eagerness, but the smile he's giving you just looks painful.

“Of course.” You smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Sweet Pea adds and you give him a shy smile. His gaze lingers on your for a little longer than it probably should for ex’s and you feel his eyes trail up and down your body, focusing on the parts that you made sure were accentuated in anticipation for seeing him again.

Fangs and Kevin share a look before excusing themselves and leaving you to try and look busy while Sweet Pea does the exact opposite. You know you shouldn’t, you know it’s wrong to still be loving the attention, to be dressing just to impress him, maybe make him a little jealous, but you can’t help the fact that you love how it makes you feel. All the attention, the small touches, the way his breath fans against your neck when he leans in to say something sarcastic, or the smirk that tugs at his lips when you do something to make him laugh, either on purpose or accidental.

You may have ended five months ago, but you’re still madly in love with him, and even though he tries to deny it, he can’t say he doesn’t feel the same about you.

“How are you doing?” He asks and your surprised by his bluntness. The two of you walk in the same direction as the rest of the guests, both completely unaware as to where you are going, and so you just stumble along blindly and hope that at least somebody around you knows what’s happening.

Sweet Pea’s hand ghosts the small of your back as he lets you through the door first, and the small pause gives you a chance to think of what to say. Do you lie and say that you haven’t spent every night thinking of him, and that the fact that he’s this close is making it difficult to breathe.

“Honestly?” You ask and he nods, his expression serious and he looks genuinely concerned. “The millisecond that you’re away, I get the loneliest feeling.” You laugh bitterly and his eyebrows furrow.

“Oh.” He says and grabs your arm, letting the rest of the guests shuffle past you until it’s just you and him stood in the corridor.

“Oh?” You repeat. “Is that a bad oh?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “It’s a relived oh.”

“...oh.” You say and the two of you giggle.

“Same.” He adds and you nod awkwardly.

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Breaking up or being together in the first place” He asks and you frown, forcing yourself to look at him. “I’m sorry things are the way they are.” He adds and your expression softens.

“I’m sorry too.” You reply and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He stares at it for a few seconds before slowly pulling you closer to him and you feel your breath hitch. “Do you wanna dance tonight?” You ask, trying to change the subject in order to give you a chance to remember how to breathe.

“That depends.” He shrugs, leaning closer to you and your cheeks heat up.

“On?” You ask, trying and failing to steady your voice.

“If you dance with me darling, if you take me home...will we talk in the morning?” He asks, almost begs as his lips brush against yours and you feel yourself falling for him all over again. Your hands cup his cheeks and his grip around your waist tightens around you, and for a brief second, everything that has ever happened between you, all the fights, the tears, the make-ups, the 3am calls and the drunken nights spent together when you told yourself no more, they’re all replaced by this one kiss, and all the possibilities that it could lead to, you just need to make sure you follow the right path this time.

You pull away, desperate for breath, but also yearning for him to keep kissing you, you want him to kiss you forever, you want to be held by him for the rest of time, until you can no longer hold each other.

But then you’re reminded of what drove the two of you apart in the first place. You’re lack of communication and the fact that life had been grinding the two of you down, far too much for you to focus on one another. That sort of things kills a couple, it makes them too stressed to love and even more stressed to talk about their issues so the only thing you can do is argue, and even then, that gets exhausting quickly.

You hated who you were then, you both did. You knew neither of you were the person that the other fell in love with, and you hated the way the other one looked whenever someone said something they instantly regretted but were too stubborn to take back.

You desperately want to go back to a time where you were happy together, but can you really go through all of this again if it goes wrong? But then he looks at you, his expression full of hope and love and there’s a shy smile playing on his lips thats only reserved for you, and you know. Of course you can, he’s worth the heartbreak.

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “We can talk, but I don’t know where it’ll lead us, I hope it’s somewhere nice, things will change, they always do, but my heart will stay open for you, no matter what.” You say honestly, it’s the only thing you can say, but his smile shows that he’s willing to try, and then he grabs you and kisses you, and you know that you will talk, and you both hope it never stops.

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jobrookekarev · 3 years ago

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Just to Break Me Like a Promise

T.S. x Jolex Week 2021 hosted by @thejolexgroupchat

Chapter One of Two: In the Name of Being Honest

Words: 6974

Summary: When Jo goes into labor, she finally picks up the phone and calls Alex to tell him that she's in labor with their baby girl. As she asked him to come back she remembers the life that they had together all too well.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Jo Wilson, Alex Karev, and Levi Schmitt.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Angst, Taylor Swift, All Too Well, The Letter, Pregnancy, Labor.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: I do not own any of Taylor Swift’s music.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo held her swollen baby bump as she pushed open the red door of the loft. She didn't know why but it seemed heavier than usual as she pushed it open. Alex was always the one to keep the door well oiled, but now he was gone, that was her responsibility. However, it wasn't easy to remember to do the things that he used to do for her now that she was on her own. Sometimes the responsibilities seemed endless and she missed having a partner to share the burden with.

The Loft was cold and dark, and it reminded her of the first night she showed it to him as they walked through the door of the Loft together. There was something about this place that drew her in. She thought that they could take it and make it into anything they wanted, and they did. As she flicked on the lights, the warm light revealed the cozy home they had and the life that they created together. That other life they had created stirred in her belly as her daughter kicked against her hand.

Jo shrugged off the coat that she wore now that summer had turned to fall and hung it up on the hook. That morning as she and Levi left for work, she wished that she had her favorite scarf, but she can’t remember where it was and suspected that she left it at Meredith's house the last time they had waffles Sunday. They still had waffle Sundays, but it wasn't the same without Alex. Nothing was the same without him.

She waddled over to the cabinet behind the couch and put her bag down along with her keys and everything else. At 39 weeks pregnant, the only thing she wanted to do each night was collapse on the couch, watch TV, and fall asleep until she gave birth. Thanks to her friends, most nights, she did. They kept her fridge well stocked, so she didn't have to worry about cooking dinner. Link came over and did her laundry every week, and Bailey and Carina had her on a light work schedule, so she was home by 6 p.m. every night. Jo loved her new mentor, and after switching from surgery to OB, she had grown to admire Carina, and the two had become close friends. Jo didn't mind that she was keeping a close eye on her baby. Except when it meant keeping a close eye on her.

Apart from that, Jo had at least one visitor a night who would come in and check on her before Levi got home from work. Some nights Jo appreciated the company, but most nights, she felt like a toddler who needed babysitting. Still, the worry of her friends was much needed, especially since she didn't have Alex to worry over her.

Jo didn't want to think about the husband that left her tonight, but it was hard not to think about him when she carried around a little part of him every day. Her daughter had been quiet on the drive home, but as Jo walked around the Loft, she was greeted with a series of movements as her daughter wiggled around.

“Hello, my sweet girl,” Jo whispered as she pressed her hand into the side of her belly as her daughter kicked against her fingers. Jo moved her hand over and pressed into the other side of her belly as her daughter lightly kicked her hand again. They played a little bit of back and forth, poking and kicking for a second before Jo rubbed her belly and walked over to the kitchen.

The latest pre-made dinner was her favorite macaroni and cheese, made by Levi, although he did put broccoli in it. After she warmed up her dinner, she walked over to the window and watched the rainfall on the parking lot while the city lights glittered in the rain. The views from the Loft certainly weren't the best in the city, but it was nice, and Jo enjoyed watching the rain.

She looked down at her rain stained car next to Alex’s Audi. She didn’t know what to do with it, so it just sat abandoned beside her own. She remembered the time they drove upstate to stay at a cabin in Bellingham for a long weekend. She controlled the music and got him to sing along to Taylor Swift. He didn’t lie and say he only knew the lyrics because of the kids who blasted it on the ped’s floor. With her, he never hid what he liked. They drove through the autumn trees on a winding road and the leaves fell like the rain. Everything was golden as the setting sun came in through the windows and the red and orange leaves were a colorful paint on the grey pavement. The memory was as vivid as ever and she could hear his laugh as he insisted on carrying her into the cabin and straight to the bed.

She pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders and held her cup of tea close to her lips, feeling the warmth of steam and the sweet scent before she took a sip. As she looked around the Loft and waddled over to the couch. They had designed the Loft in a way that it always fit the fall theme. It was always cozy and warm on the dreary winter rainy days. Which was good considering that was pretty much the majority of the weather in Seattle. This October, Jo, and Levi had put up more decorations than usual. There were pumpkins everywhere, although their carved Mini pumpkins sat next to colorful corn cobs on the kitchen table. They had strings of leaves all around them, although a lot of those were just the ones that they brought in on their shoes. The theme of the Loft had always been red, and that red fall theme had trickled over into the nursery she had set up in the corner where the dining table used to be.

She thought she would set it all up on her own bit by bit, doing a little each day, and she did. She slowly bought everything she needed, but the day the crib and the dresser were delivered, her friends surprised her with a decorating nursery party in favor of a baby shower she wouldn't let April plan for her. Meredith, Jackson, April, Link and Amelia, Maggie and Winston, and all the kids came over along with Schmitt and Taryn and Nico, and the rest of the Grey-Slone family. They all put together the furniture, folded and washed the baby clothes, and put the toys away. They got the dresser, and the changing station set up all while Jo just sat in her new rocking chair and directed traffic. Everybody else from the hospital had stopped by and delivered gifts, and at the end of the day, Jo had a full nursery ready for her daughter.

It was so wonderful she nearly cried. After Alex left, she decided to go through with her pregnancy alone. She would tell him eventually, but for now, she needed to do this by herself. She thought that she would be completely alone, but Jo was never alone. She had a family now, and even in the loneliest of times, they all banded together to take care of her. That meant more to her than anything else. It was perfect, but the one person who should have been there putting together the nursery with her wasn't there.

Jo let out a sigh as she rested her tea mug on the end table and reached for the remote that was too far away. Levi always put it on the coffee table, not the end table like Alex did, and it was almost impossible to reach from her reclined position. She leaned forward and stretched to reach it as she bruised it with her fingertips before she grabbed ahold of it.

“I’m gonna kick you out pretty soon if you keep restricting my movements, kiddo. It’s bad enough that I can’t take the stairs or walk faster than a duck,” Jo huffed as she sat back and sipped her tea.

In response, her daughter gave her a series of swift kicks to her ribs.

“Ow, okay, I get it you want out too. I know there’s not much room in there, but it’s not my fault you're so big,” Jo said as she rubbed her belly to comfort her daughter.

However, this time, her daughter didn't kick her, and instead, a painful contraction gripped her stomach. Jo and mediately sat up and tried to breathe through it. She had had a few Braxton Hicks contractions earlier in the day but nothing this strong.

“No, no, no,” Jo moaned as she breathed out and tried to get through it. Once the contraction passed, she scolded her daughter. “You can't send me into labor now. I haven't even told your father about you.”

The day they had driven up to the cabin was long gone, but a part of him was still with her. She tried to pretend that she was okay, but she wasn’t. She knew she had to tell Alex about their daughter, but even then, it wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't bring his love back. She had gotten so close to telling him a number of times, but every time she heard his voice on the phone, she just couldn't. The day she had her 20 week scan and found out she was having a girl, she had gotten so close to telling him. In a rush of excitement, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number to tell him that they were having a daughter. But the phone just rang and rang, and when he didn't pick up. She was once again left listening to his voicemail, her excitement had turned to disappointment, and she just ended the call. Looking back now, she didn't know why she didn't tell him. She should have, but she couldn't bear the thought of not seeing his face or hearing his voice when she told him. She wanted him to pick up the phone for her, but he never did.

Jo didn't remember the rest of the day too well, but she remembered how Meredith and Link, and to her surprise, even Bailey, offered to let her stay with them as her mood darken. But Jo was determined, maintain her stability for the sake of her daughter, and she didn't want to leave the Loft. It was her home and it held so many memories of Alex. It was hard to face the memories of him after he left, but when she found out she was pregnant, she clung to every bit of him that she could, in the hope that she could give it all to her baby.

Jo closed her eyes as she sat back on the couch and listened to the news anchor go on and on as she heard the rain pelt against the windows. She sat cozy and warm on the couch as she got lost in her memory. She could see it all again. The drive up to that little town with the cabin. She remembered the wind in her hair and the music of the radio. She didn't know what it was about her smile that day, but Alex couldn’t stop staring at her. He had looked over and stared at her with that little crooked smile, and it was only because she rolled her eyes and looked back at the road that she noticed the light turn yellow. Alex had to slam on the brakes to avoid running the red light. It was a bit scary, but she laughed because he got distracted by her, and she would never get tired of the way that he looked at her like that. It was happy and painful to remember, but she remembered it all too well.

She wasn't surprised when she fell asleep, she was so tired these days, but she was woken up only a few minutes later to another contraction. This one was just as strong as the one before, and Jo tried to remember all the breathing techniques and exercises that she had learned over the past few months now that she was an OB/GYN resident. She did her breathing and set her tea down. It was still warm in her hand as she set it down on the arm of the couch. Jo tried to move into a more comfortable position and rolled onto her side. As the contraction finally passed as she let out of breath.

“Hey you, I thought we agreed you weren't coming yet,” Jo said as she put her hand over her bump and her daughter replied with gentle and soft movements as she squirmed around but pushed her arm out. “You can't come yet, please.”

Jo got up and started walking around the loft, or rather waddling. She looked at her watch, waiting for the next contraction to come, but it never did. Jo finally relaxed, letting her shoulders sag as she finished her tea. She went over to the nursery, brushing her hand along the railing of the crib as she sat down and the rocking chair. She put her feet up on the ottoman as she gently rocked back and forth. She had chosen a classic glider, but it was insanely comfortable, and both her and her baby were calmed by the rocking motion.

She reached over to the nightstand to grab the baby blanket. It was the leaf printed muslin swaddle that she intended to bring her daughter home from the hospital in. She had been carrying it around so that it would have her scent on it when her daughter was born. As she grabbed the swaddle, her hand brushed over the photo albums she had been looking at a few days ago. It was Alex's photos from when he was a kid. When his mom had visited, she had brought it with her. The album was something she had created for Alex, Amber, and Arron.

Alex had cried when he first saw it. Neither of them had many photos from when they were kids. After Helen had gotten more stable, she started sorting through the things in the house and found all the photos. She had made each of her kids, and each album was filled with photos and little descriptions of the memories of each photo. Having the photo album meant the world to him.

Jo had loved the album too and she had sat next to Helen on the couch as they all went through every photo. Alex had blushed this deep red color and tried to keep certain photos from her, but she loved every single one of them. It was filled with photos from his childhood, from when he was a baby to when he was a teenager. Helen even managed to track down a few photos of him in college when he was on the wrestling team. Jo’s favorite was from when he was a little kid, sitting in a twin-size bed with dinosaur sheets. She smiled because she loved that little chubby kid as much as she loved her tall, scruff husband. He was just so cute and her heart just melted on the spot. Helen told her stories about him in the library, how he took care of his siblings, and his successes on the wrestling team. Jo loved every second of it, especially when Alex blushed and hid in her shoulders.

That night as he laid next to her before he fell asleep, he whispered that he wanted to do that for their baby. He wanted them to have a photo album and memories of their childhood for them to look back on. It was the reason Jo had the photo album out because she had started a baby book. She had written down every detail of her pregnancy and tucked away every little ultrasound. She had no idea what she was doing, but luckily the book was all set up, and all she had to do was write everything down and add the photos. It wasn't much, but it was something that their baby would always have.

Jo knew everything about Alex’s childhood, just like he knew everything about hers. She remembered how he promised that their baby would have a better childhood than either of them did. She put a hand on her belly and felt her daughter move around. She knew that their daughter would have that good childhood that they never got, whether she had to do it alone or not. She didn't know how they would work it out, but even if she and her daughter only had Alex part-time, she knew that he would be the best father in the world. In the meantime, she could be a good enough mother to make up for the rest of it.

She had another Braxton Hicks contraction and laid back and let go of the photo album as it fell to the floor. This one lasted a little longer, but it finally passed, and Jo looked down at the photo album open on the floor. She hadn’t been able to reach anything on the floor since she hit 30 weeks, and she can't remember the last time she was able to tie her shoes. At least Levi didn't mind picking up after her as Jo decided to leave it.

She looked down at the photo album again. It was open on pictures of Alex in high school. He was so handsome in his wrestling uniform. Despite how much she tried to tell herself that she could do this on her own, she knew she never could. The memories of their life together were so vivid and fresh, and Jo was glad that she got to keep them. As the fridge came to life and hummed, she looked over and remembered the night that they danced together in the refrigerator light. It was late, and they were both on night shift and had come home to make dinner. As they cooked together, Jo put on some music, and then she grabbed his hand and pulled him in the dance with her. He laughed and kissed her, then gave in and danced with her for a few minutes before the pasta started to boil over. She could still remember the sound of his laughter and the feel of his hands on her waist. She remembered it all too well.

This time after she fell asleep, she woke up to Levi gently calling her name and shaking her shoulder. “Jo, Jo, wakey, wakey,”

Jo groaned and swatted at the hand that poked her shoulder. “Leave me alone, Schmitt.”

“Fine, I just thought that you wouldn't want to sleep all night in the rocking chair,” Levi said as she opened her eyes, looking up at him as he pulled back and shrugged.

Jo sighed as she realized she was still sitting in the glider and held out her hands to him. “Ugh, help me up, please.”

Levi pulled her up, although not without a strain on them both. He wasn't quite strong enough, and although she was reluctant to admit it, she was getting too big. After he helped her up, she walked towards the bed as she heard him pick up the photo album and put it back on that nightstand.

“Was there anything else you dropped,” Levi asked as he looked around the room and collected her dinner dishes and then the mug of tea she left on the couch.

“No, just the...” Jo trailed off with a groan as she leaned against the post as she had another Braxton Hicks contraction.

“You okay?” Levi asked, but she just squeezed her eyes shut and ignored him. He had long since learned not to touch her or interfere when she was having a Braxton Hicks, or she would bite off his head.

“Yeah,” Jo said as the contraction finally passed, and she went over to sit back down on the couch. “She's just been dramatic today. I've been having Braxton Hicks since this afternoon.”

“You've been counting them, though right,” Levi asked, suddenly worried as he came over to her.

“Yes, of course, I've been counting them. I'm not a moron, and I'm not in labor,” Jo said, waving her hand to dismiss him.

“Okay, I'm just saying your full term, so it can happen any day now,” Levi said, walking back to the kitchen. “Did you have dinner already?”

“Yes, Dad,” Jo said as she rolled her eyes. She didn't need a lecture on how close she was to her due date.

It was something everybody, especially Meredith and Link, had been annoying her about. Jo was highly aware of it as the day she would have to call Alex and tell them that she had their daughter was getting closer and closer. She had avoided him for nine months, saying that she wouldn't tell him until she had the baby. She was still on the fence about whether she wanted him there, and she delivered. She knew that he would be there for her, and he would comfort her and hold her hand and get her ice chips and let her scream and cry and yell at him for leaving her. However, other times the thought of seeing him again while she was in labor was too hard. As she made her birth plan and attended to the labor and births of countless other birth givers and babies, she wanted things to be calm. She wanted people there who would support her, and although Alex was the best person for that since he left her, things had changed, and she wasn’t sure he would be.

Her daughter wiggled and painfully stretched out inside of her pushing on her organs as Jo let out gasped and rubbed up and down her belly. She pressed down on where her daughter's feet were. She had dropped lower a few days ago, giving her a little extra room, but she and Carina estimated that she was at least 9 pounds, so regardless, she didn't have much room.

“I know,” Jo said with a sigh as she talked to her baby girl. “You're ready to come out, but I'm not ready for you yet. You got to hang tight just for a little bit longer, please, baby girl.”

Her daughter relaxed as she gently kicked her hands, and Jo smiled. However, it doesn't seem that her daughter wanted to listen to her tonight. As then she heard a pop and felt a gush of water. It was just a little trickle, and Jo blushed in embarrassment as she thought it was her bladder releasing as her daughter pushed on it. However, as she drenched her jeans, instead of smelling like pee, it smelled a little sweet, and Jo suddenly realized what happened.

“No, no, not yet, please not yet,” Jo said as she put her hand on her belly as she looked down at her lap that was soaked in her amniotic fluid.

“What's wrong,” Levi said in a panic as he came over to her. He looked down at the dark patch in her jeans as her amniotic fluid continued to soak her pants and then looked up at her. “Oy vey, you're in labor, your water broke, you're in labor.”

“Levi,” Jo said through gritted teeth as she had another contraction. “Call Meredith.”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Levi said, taking a deep breath as he scrambled to try and find his phone. “Oy vey.”

Jo tried to relax as best she could and breathe through the contraction, going to the technique of counting in her head as she breathed in and out. As soon as the contraction passed, Jo put her hand on the sidearm of the couch and pulled herself up. She looked back at the white couch that was now stained wet and a little red with blood.

She tried to remember not to freak out seeing the blood as she knew it was normal, but she couldn't help but grieve for the ruined couch cushion. It was kind of fitting that her water broke on their couch. The couch had been through so much. They had spilled beer and pizza sauce and teriyaki on that couch, but they'd always manage to get the stains out, but this was one stain that probably would mark the fabric forever.

Jo looked over at Levi in his little space where Alex’s weights used to be. He rummaged through everything on his twin-size bed, mumbling and trying to find his phone. Jo rolled her eyes as she made her way over to her bed. She grabbed her purse from the cabinet behind the couch and her pillow. Her hospital bag and the car seat were already in her car as she figured she didn't want to lug all of it down there while she was in labor, and she was so glad she did. Now that she was in labor, she realized she wanted a few extra things. She grabbed a few snacks from the kitchen, her favorite hair scrunchie, her headphones, and of course, the baby book. Jo put everything on her bed before realizing she was still in her wet jeans and grabbed a pair of sweatpants before she went over to the bathroom.

“What are you doing,” Levi asked, his head popping up as he rushed over to her. “You don't need to push, do you? Cuz if you need to push, I can be ready. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Okay, first off, you are not going to be in the room while I’m pushing. Secondly, I don't need to push ye. I just want to change out of my wet jeans,” Jo said as she put her hand on the door handle to the bathroom and shut it in his face.

“Okay, but leave the door unlocked in case anything happens,” Levi shouted as Jo kicked off her jeans and left them in a mess on the floor.

There was a reason why she didn't pick Levi to be her labor partner, and now she severely regretted Meredith’s offer to let her stay with her. If Meredith were here, she would have already helped Jo change and then helped her to the car. But Meredith’s house was so crowded with Maggie, Link, Amelia, and all the kids. During the last few weeks of her pregnancy, Jo's nesting instincts had kicked in, and she felt the need to be at the Loft and make sure that everything was ready for her daughter. Besides, knowing Link, if she went into labor when he was around, he would probably be just as panicked as Levi.

It was a struggle to put on anything that involved her feet these days. She also had to pause as she had another contraction, but she managed to put on her sweatpants before she went back out. Levi was still running around the Loft collecting things, but at least he was on the phone with Meredith. Jo went over to the bed and got her things. Jo stood in the entryway with her bag on her shoulder, and her pillow under her arm as Levi still scrambled to find his things.

“Alright, I’m gonna go wait in the car,” Jo said as she waddled over to the door, reaching for her jacket and her favorite pair of gray slippers.

“Okay, I’m coming too,” Levi said as he scooped up his things before taking her bag and the pillow from her as they made their way down to her car.

Jo put her hood up and pulled her coat around her middle, although her belly stuck out and her white T-shirt got wet. She handed her car keys to Levi as she had another contraction and paused as she leaned on the hood of the car. They were still ten minutes apart, but now that her water had broken, they were much more painful, and she watched the rain fall on the windshield, trying to let it calm her as she followed the water droplets down the glass. After it passed, she let Levi help her into the front seat as he finished putting everything in the back. Finally, he climbed into the driver seat and started up the car before he froze.

“What now,” Jo said in annoyance, gritting her teeth.

“I think I forgot my wallet upstairs,” Levi said quickly, padding his thighs and then his butt only to come up empty.

“Well, go get it,” Jo yelled at him as he quickly scrambled out of the car and ran back upstairs. “And don't forget to lock the door.”

Now that she was finally alone in the car, with only the grey skies and the rain that pitter pattered on the rooftop. Jo pulled out her phone as she figured that now was as good a time as any to call Alex. She put one hand on her belly as she pulled up his contact. Even if she got his voicemail now, she knew she had to tell him that they were having a baby.

To her surprise, she had a voicemail from Alex waiting for her. She knew she shouldn't be surprised. He left her a few voicemails in the past few months. He always called in the middle of the night or early in the morning when he knew she would be sleeping, and even if he did call during the day, she never picked up for him. Since he sent the divorce papers and the letter, he had left her a few voicemails asking for her to sign the papers and send them back, but she couldn't do that yet. She quickly pulled up the voicemail and held her phone to her ear as his familiar voice came through her phone.

“Hey Jo, I was just wondering if you had filed the divorce papers yet. I still haven't heard from you, and Meredith won't tell me anything, so I just thought I'd call and ask you. I know this is hard, this is hard for me too, but,” Alex trailed off with a sigh, and she could tell that he had pushed the phone away from his ear and put a hand over his face like he always did when he was tired and frustrated. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry I had to end things like this. I'm sorry that it's all on you to end our marriage. I could make it easier for you, and I could meet up with your lawyer or you or something, just let me know. Again I'm really sorry Jo, but I really need those papers, please. Please just call me and tell me what you want to do, okay?”

She knew Alex better than anybody. She knew about his father and his mother and Amber and Arron. She knew that he was the wrestling state champion in junior year in college. She knew that Mr. Myers who worked the night shift with his favorite foster parent. She knew that even though Amber was grown up and had a family of her own, Alex still felt the need to take care of his baby sister, which is why they visited her twice a year. She knew he loved to drive as he always said it was where he could really think. She knew that he loved Taylor Swift music, and she knew that he loved dancing but only with her. She knew that when he found out about the twins, he had panicked and he ran. It was always his first thought, and it was hers too, but she had stopped running a long time ago, and she thought he did too, but his letter was his way of running away again.

“I swear I love him, but sometimes I hate him. I know he's your father's baby girl, but he is the most frustrating person I've ever met,” Jo nearly screamed as she clenched her phone before she let out a breath and rubbed her hand across her belly. “Even when we were together. And even now, I can tell that he still loves me too. He's trying to make the divorce easy for me, but he doesn't know that I’ve been put off filing the papers because I have you. Once he meets you, he's going to be faced with the reality of what he's done. I don't know if he'll come back to us, but I want him to be there for you. I wish this was easy, baby girl, and I'm sorry it's not. You deserve parents who aren't in the midst of a divorce. You deserve parents who are so much better than this.”

Jo took a deep breath as tears collected in her eyes. She had always wanted the best for her daughter. She wanted things to be good for her. So she had ignored the truth that things weren't in the hopes that if she ignored it long enough, Alex would come back to her and things would be good again. She knew now that she was foolish to think that. Every time he had called her since he sent the letter, it felt so casually cruel, but she knew he was just being honest. She felt like every promise he ever made to her, he broke again and again. All she could hear some nights with him saying that he wasn't going anywhere except home with her, but none of the words on the letter replayed in her head, saying that he wasn't coming home. If it wasn't for their baby girl, Jo thought she would have broken down.

She let a few tears fall down her cheeks before She had another contraction. This time she let herself cry out in pain. But when the pain passed, she wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. As hard as this was and as much as it wouldn't fix anything, she had to tell Alex. He deserved to know. She wasn't going to be like Izzie and keep his daughter from him. She couldn't do that to either of them, but she couldn't help but feel like she was throwing a bomb into the middle of his life.

Still, she picked up her phone and dialed his number again. He was the first name in her contacts and last call that she had gotten. So she wasn't surprised when it rang for a little while, but she was surprised when he picked up.

“Hi Jo,” Alex said with such sadness in his voice as if it physically pained him to say her name.

“Alex,” Jo breathed out his name despite the pain. He always filled her with a sense of relief. Jo took a deep breath as she looked at the clock, and she only had a few more minutes until her next contractions hit, and she wanted to get it all out to him.

“Look, about the divorce papers…” Alex started to say.

“Alex, I can't file them, not now, just not now, because I'm pregnant. I'm having our baby girl, right now actually. I'm, I'm in labor, and I can't file the divorce papers because they only allow family members in the delivery room right now, and you're my family, and I need you. Our baby girl needs you.”

Alex was silent on the other end of the line, and Jo was a little grateful for that because her next contraction hit, and she let out a moan as she tried to breathe through the pain again. She leaned forward and put her head on her arms as she leaned against the dashboard. She could hear Alex calling her name, but in the midst of her contraction, she couldn't respond until finally, it passed.

“Jo, Jo, are you still there? Are you alright? Is, is she alright,” Alex begged her for answers, and she could tell that he was moving around in the background. “Please talk to me!”

“I'm fine and she's fine too,” Jo said, still a little breathless from her contraction. “She's perfect actually, she's healthy, and she's strong, but my contractions are really strong too.”

“How far apart are they? Has your water broken yet? How long have you been having contractions? Are you at the hospital?” Alex asked a series of questions as he rambled off in a panic, just like she didn't know he would.

“Alex, stop,” Jo cut him off before he started asking her more questions. “My contractions are ten minutes apart, and my water broke a few minutes ago. So I've only been having them for a couple of hours. It's still really early, I can tell, but I'm headed to the hospital now. Levi's driving me, or he's supposed to be.”

“Schmitt is driving you to the hospital?” Alex asked as Jo looked up to the window to see him finally coming out the door of the apartment building and rushing over to the car.

“It's a long story. A lot has changed since you left, Alex,” Jo said in a whisper, so much had changed.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered too.

“Okay, ready to go. Did you call Meredith?” Levi asked, breaking their little bubble of silence as he got in the car.

“Just drive,” Jo said, putting her hand over the receiver as Levi pulled out of the parking lot before she went back to her call with Alex. “I'm headed to Grey-Sloan right now. I umm, I have Meredith and Carina, and they’re going to be with me through my labor but, but I want you there too.”

“Of course, of course, I'm going to be there. I'll be there as soon as I can, and you can scream and cry and yell at me or just hold my hand, and I'll feed you ice chips or something. I'll get you whatever you want, Jo,” Alex said in the same voice that he used to promise her the world with, and although she knew she shouldn't, she believed that he would keep his word this time.

“Okay,” Jo said with a nod, tears springing in her eyes. He was coming back to her, to her and their baby.

“Okay, do you want me to stay on the line with you until I get there?” Alex offered, god, he was so sweet, but Jo didn't know what she wanted.

“Don't you have to catch a plane or something?” Jo asked, trying not to hold her breath as she waited for his answer.

“No, actually I'm in Chehalis with…” Alex trailed off, not wanting to say her name, and Jo was glad because she didn't want to hear it. “I'm just, I'm in Chehalis, and I can be there in an hour if traffic isn't too bad.”

“You’ll have to go through Tacoma and the traffic in Tacoma is always terrible,” Jo said, closing her eyes and her tears finally fell down her cheeks as Levi drove through the downtown streets. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes as she looked at the road ahead of them. “Okay, just why don't you just get here as soon as you can, and I'm going to call Meredith, but not before I yell at Levi's for taking the wrong street.”

“I'm not taking the wrong street. This is the best way to get to the hospital,” Levi insisted as he gripped the wheel and painfully went this exact speed limit as he cautiously drove.

“No, you're on 4th ave, but you should have hopped on Highway 99. It’s faster!” Jo insisted as she pointed at the map he had up on his phone showing the option for the route she wanted.

“Yeah, but it's dangerous to drive on the highway,” Levi protested as he stayed the course. “And this is the way that I take when I ride my bike, so this is the way we're going.”

Jo threw her head back against the headrest and groaned as she had another contraction. She tried to breathe again as she gripped the door handle as if it was Alex’s hand. She didn't want to go through this alone. She wanted him here now.

“That’s it, deep breaths, Jo, you're doing great,” Alex's gentle voice came through the phone as he was there for her. “Just keep breathing and trying not to kill Schmidt. He should be careful he's got precious cargo.”

Jo took comfort in his words as she let out a breath and the contraction finally passed. “Our daughter is going to be so excited to meet you, so just get here as soon as you can, please, Alex.”

“I'm excited to meet her too,” Alex said, and for the first time since he left her, he sounded happy. “I can't wait to meet her, and I can't wait to see you again, so I'm going to hang up and hop in the car right now. I'll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” Jo said with another nod as she put a hand on her belly and Alex hung up.

His voice was still ringing in her ear as she remembered it all too well. Yet, soon she would hear his voice as he sat beside her and supported her as she delivered their baby girl, and she wouldn't have to remember because she would have him back. If only for tonight, if only for her baby girl.

……………………………………………………………………

AN: Part 2 is coming soon!

#jo wilson #alex karev #grey's anatomy #jolex #TSJolexWeek21 #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #my work #my writing #my fanfiction #my photos #my edits

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weepinglevi · 4 years ago

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whos your favorite fic writer/moots and why? Got any recommendations?

first off: pls know that if you're not listed here it doesn't mean i don't like you or your work, it simply means that i have a pea sized brain. love all of u. keep on writing. i really don't want anyone to feel bad (ask nia, i've been crying to her about it).

secondly: i'm not referring to them as my "favourite" cos i can't pick favourites, never really could. maybe that's why i'm simping for so many aot men at once ahaha.

and last but not least: this is going to be a long post so i'mma do all of us the favour and put it under the cut. i feel very soft today and have been listening to the titanic soundtrack for the better half of my day. bear with me, i'mma shower you with love. go check them out!

CHECK THE DNI TAGS ON THESE BLOGS BEFORE READING OR FOLLOWING, PLEASE!

this is in no particular order.

@kojinnie: my queen of angst. the other half of the princess-duo (i came to the conclusion that we're both princesses, we deserve to hang around in pretty dresses and have the time of our lives). especially dream me home still haunts my dreams. i love how you captured the pain and fear both of them feel. and i kind of view it as the start of our friendship, what with both of us writing about the mission to retake wall maria and you jumping into my dms after the fact. love you, kojin, and i only wish you the best.

@starrynightlys: shield-maiden claire. beautiful, talented, funny claire. i love you and i am so happy to have found you here, i really am. i know i've told you this multiple times but whenever i see you on my dash - either fighting off the floch anon or you posting memes, there's a big fat grin on my face. apart from your absolutely mesmerising presence, there's also one work in particular i always come back to: the beginning of forever. you are my source of happy levi content. when the world turns dark and i want him to be happy, i turn to this fic and to your blog in general. love you and i am dreaming of us listening to some good music in a park sometime soon!

@snkslush: luv! my first tumblr wife! this alone has gotten you a very special place in my heart ahah. i love the energy you have - whenever i see you on my dash i feel happy and it's because of how you interact with others. it's like i've known you since forever because of how easily i can talk to you. and reading your filthy thoughts about connie has set off my connie brainrot more than once ahaha.

your headcanons on how the aot boys react when their s/o tells them they want to be railed and also the follow-up still has me drooling. fucking love them. so accurate as well and i'm a slut for everyone ahha

@aotwrites: my lil sunflower. lil sis, you have no idea how happy you truly make me. i love the lil talks we have and i still remember the message you sent me when you were half-asleep, i always giggle when reading it ahah. just know that if you ever want, you can come up to me and ask me weird stuff lil sisters normally ask their bigger sisters. not that i have any good advice to give, but i have a lot of reaction pics to send!

it's very hard for me to pick out one of your fics to recommend - like i said, i have a problem with choosing favourites. but if i absolutely had to, it'd be all of the stars. cried my way through it. will cry again when i reread it. i cry a lot in general.

@arumiee: mars, i know we haven't talked much but our conversation about nurse!armin yesterday is still running around in my head. i can't wait to read about either armin or eren in scrubs, istg. you're so kind and happy-go-lucky, i usually feel nervous when tagging someone on a post but with you yesterday? no problem at all. you give me a sense of safety ahaha (pls don't think i'm weird, i'm actually not. or, yes, i am but in a good way). your purify me had me wanting to take a bath in holy water after reading it. preferably a bath with eren. i guess we're both headed to hell ahaha

@odmlevis: rizrizrizrizriz. i'm laughing right now because all i think of is our last conversation and it's hard to gather my thoughts whenever my mind goes to eren and reiner. or eren and jean - or jean and connie ahaha. i'll have all of them with me in the middle, pretty please.

but back to topic: your the most hurtful things they'd say to you still has my heart breaking. absolutely broken into pieces. because somehow you managed to put all of my worst fears into it. i don't know why i reread it on the regular (i do know, i'm a sucker for pain). other than that, i'm always so happy when i read your messages and when i see you out and about, making others happy with your lil "someone told me to tell you something"-thing you do so often. you're so precious, lemme smooch you.

@onyxoverride: onyx istg your blog is the place i go to if i am down bad. down bad bad. i know we rarely talk and me saying your blog is the place i take my horniness to might come off as weird but it's the truth. i even have problems with picking a favourite because goddamn they're all so good?? what is your secret? if there's a reason for me to go to hell (other than mars' purify me) it's gonna be because of ocean spit. do i have to elaborate further? eren's titan form is fucking hot and thank you for this delicious meal ahha. i am getting all flustered rn just by looking at the lil pic on top of your fic. i will see myself out now. love u onyx you are cool as hell (and i'm nervous as fuck - you're sitting at the cool kids' table in my head ahah - that's why i am so silent around u)

@1252291: and now to you. connie 2 my sasha. erwin smiths ball whore. twIN FLAME, LIGHT OF MY LIFE. buckle up cos we're in for a wild ride. i was debating whether or not to post every of your fics here, because i love all of them so much. i came up with a better idea tho: here's your masterlist. i will talk about two of your works in particular later on, but first you're gonna have to endure me violently showering you with kisses and love.

i haven't told you this before (shocking, i know) but ever since we started talking, i feel like i have a real-life friend again. i haven't had friends in a while and i am so fucking thankful to have you. i really am. i even told my therapist about you because he asked why i am so happy all of a sudden? newsflash: it's because of you.

usually, it was insomnia keeping me up at night but now it's because i am talking to you. and you have no idea how fucking great it feels to wake up in the morning and feel tired; not because some shitty thoughts kept me awake but because i was talking to a friend. i will forever love you for this. you've been there when i was at one of the darkest and loneliest stages of my life and lit up the fucking room with your personality and humour. thank you for being my light. for giving me the same feeling i have when rewatching lord of the rings. for being you. i will stop now but you know i will keep on loving you on main until i take my last breath.

now to your works. falling in love and stay forever. i think you already knew that these are the ones i hold dearest. i still think about felix and rue. i love felix and rue and my heart hurts when thinking of them. your way with words has characters coming to life and touching your heart in a way i've never experienced before. like i said, it felt like those are my friend who died. my fingers running through levi's hair, trying to make his endless pain go away. i am crying again. thank you for creating this. if you ever find the books you've written (or write a new one) i will buy a copy. or ten. have to have some to give away so i can promote your work.

i love u connie 2 my sasha. i really do.

#not me being soft on main #that's a new one ahah #recs

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sockablock · 4 years ago

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself...

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 2: A Name to the Face

The sun lanced arcs across Caleb’s face as he set his phone down on the nightstand, and yawned.

He’d gotten used to sleeping in strange places during the last few years of his life, and there was a part of him that missed the coziness of his room back in his and Nott’s apartment. But the other part of him, namely the part comprised of bruises from too-narrow walls—relished in this chance to stretch out a little.

Eventually, he managed to sit up. The mattress did not dip sullenly with his weight, indicative of its newness and quality.

He glanced around. The door was closed, though Frumpkin was nowhere to be seen. Then again, mundane cats were already hard enough to confine; as a feline of the fey persuasion, Frumpkin went where Frumpkin pleased.

Caleb took his sweet time making the bed, adjusting the blinds, peering out the window over quiet streets, before eventually rifling through his cardboard boxes for something proper to wear. He also made a mental note to, at some point, ask Mr. Thelyss how the laundry worked.

Then he straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the kitchen.

—

Jester was nose-deep in a box of cinnamon rolls when Beauregard emerged from the shower. Peals of steam curled past the doorframe and dissipated out into the hallway.

“I thought those were supposed to last us the week,” Beau said when she noticed her roommate. “Didn’t we decide we wouldn’t go back to the bakery until Thursday?”

“Oh, but Beau,” icing shimmered in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Beau, they’re just so tasty. I can’t resist.”

Beauregard pulled the towel off her head and gave her hair one last muss-up. Then she slung herself backwards into a chair and stole some frosting.

“Fair enough,” she licked a finger. “Just be sure to save something for Yasha when she gets back.”

“Back?” Jester’s cheerful demeanor vanished. “Oh, no, did she leave again? I thought she was done doing that!”

“Oh, no she didn’t run off, I think she just went to some errands, or something?” Beau scratched the side of her head. “She mentioned something about seeing a butcher.”

“Oh.” Jester relaxed. “Well that’s alright, then. Though we don’t really cook much.”

“Maybe she’s trying something new. It’s better than eating rats all the time, right?”

Jester gave this due consideration. “I think she only did that once. And then Fjord threw up, so she decided to stop.”

“Hm,” Beau shrugged. “I guess that’s nice of her. Oh, hey, speaking of stopping, what the hell is up with Caleb? Has he responded? With pictures and actual information?”

Jester groaned. “He’s being a real butt about it. He’s obviously there, but he isn’t sending us anything good.”

Beau raised a cinnamon roll. “The bastard.”

—

In the light of day, Mr. Thelyss’s kitchen gleamed with tidiness and disuse. In fact, it seemed like only the coffeemaker and microwave ever got any attention from their owner.

Caleb added another step to his mental moving day to-do-list: find the nearest grocery store and get some cereal. And coffee. And maybe a loaf of bread, if he was feeling extravagant.

He settled instead for pouring himself a glass of water and vowing that he would at least pick up lunch once he actually ventured outside. He slid into the kitchen, found a neutral-looking glass cup, and filled it up in the sink.

When he turned, he realized that something was different about the counter.

The little box of cheesecake was gone.

There was a note left, however. It read: Thank you very much, Mr. Widogast.

So, Caleb thought to himself. This meant that his mystery landlord had come home at some point in the night. And…as his gaze drifted past the kitchen and over to the front door of the apartment…yes, there in the foyer was a pair of shoes and a fine, but thin, black cloak.

Caleb had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if the pattern had been designed to almost be worn like some kind of long poncho. Its hem brushed just over the floor.

What kind of person would wear something like this? The amused thought of vampire briefly flickered through his mind, but he shook it off and chalked it up to spending too much time with Jester.

He glanced back at the note. Something in him also registered: charmingly polite.

He shook his head. Speaking of Jester, he still had a promise to fulfill…

—

“Fjord, those are ugly.”

“What? I think they look nice—”

“Nice won’t cut it! I need something amazing! It’s been months since I’ve last seen Yeza. I have to really blow him away.”

“Look, what you see is what we’ve got. And anyway, what’s wrong with Delphiniums—”

Nott was standing on a small turquoise stool that some of the more vertically-challenged customers of the Blooming Grove required to reach the counter. Her finger was swaying dangerously underneath the nose of a long-time friend and even longer-time frenemy, Fjord, currently on register duty.

All around them, the sweet and mellow scent of dozens upon dozens of coastal flowers twirled and trilled and danced through the air. Large windows set into the pale green walls let in sunlight and a view of the gardens out back.

“They’re blue!” Nott screeched. “I don’t want blue, Yeza’s going to think I’m not happy to see him!”

“Everyone likes blue,” Fjord said defensively. “Just look at Jester. She’s practically got a fan club. Fine, fine,” he added, when her expression didn’t change, “I can do you some roses—”

“Roses are cliché.”

“They’re a goddamn symbol of love, Nott.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t just want a symbol of love, I want a symbol of…of passion. Of devotion. Of l—”

“Look, just wait a bit, and Caduceus will be back. He’s the one who actually knows the names of all these things,” Fjord sighed. “He’ll be able to tell you if those even are Delphiniums.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“How have you managed to keep this job, Fjord?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

“Technically, I think you d—"

And then, their phones buzzed.

—

Nott glanced back at Fjord.

“Do you think he doesn’t know?”

Fjord shrugged. “Let’s just see what he says.”

Nott groaned. “It’ll probably be hours until we find out.”

—

“He’s going to die tonight, then,” said Beau, kicking off her sneakers. The front door shut behind her with a click. “That’s, like, the first rule to committing a crime. Don’t let them see your face.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Jester said. Now she was in the living room, sprawled across the couch. “It’s like…a forbidden meeting. Maybe he’ll never find out what Essie looks like. Isn’t that sad?”

“Essek,” Beau corrected, and set her keys aside. “And I don’t see what’s so sad about that.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jester lavished in her sigh. “The saddest and loneliest kind of thing. To never see who you’re living with? If you can’t even put a face to the name, you might as well be sharing your house with a ghost.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “That’s…a little dramatic, but I see what you mean. Anyway, this is a point against the guy. In my books, that is. And I’m keeping track.”

“Oh? How many points does he have?”

Beau joined her on the couch and crossed her arms. “Not many. He’s mysterious, and weird. Those are negatives. Standoffish, if he didn’t even greet Caleb on the first day. And if he isn’t a criminal, and is actually renting out a place that cheap, he must be a total idiot. Or desperate.”

“For what?” Jester asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? The company?”

—

Essek was, as a matter of fact, quite desperate. Desperate for another five minutes of sleep.

It was now long after the Mighty Nein had given up on their interrogation, though he was not aware of this. Instead, what was most on his mind was the strange…the odd vibrating right next to his head.

Blindly, he reached out to slap his alarm. His hand connected, but the noise did not stop.

Then he realized that it was coming from the other side of the bed.

He shuffled around to take a peek.

An eye was staring back at him. Large and blue.

“What in the name of the L—”

The cat yawned, and its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of teeth.

Essek hesitated. He rubbed his face.

“How did…what is…”

And then the puzzle pieces slid into place.

He racked his brain for the name.

“F…Fr…Frumpkin?” he guessed.

The cat yawned again. This time, it followed the gesture up with a mrpf, and unfurled its body. And stretched.

“Hm,” said Essek. “He did…warn me, but…I am not sure if I approve of you coming in here like this. Without announcement, especially.”

Frumpkin stared back up at him. He tilted his head and put on his most endearing expression.

“Well,” Essek relented in the onslaught of this, “at least you don’t seem to be the kind that sheds. Actually…”

He leaned in as close as he dared, a pair of icy eyes tracking his every movement.

“…actually, I’m not at all sure what kind of kitty you are. Your ears are…very long. And your markings are…”

And then Essek realized.

“A familiar?”

Frumpkin blinked at him.

—

Caleb had found the grocery store on his second try, and had also made note of a bookstore and bus stop on the way there. Now, after a long day of scouting out the neighborhood, he was back in his bedroom again, sorting clothes. No use in holding off, after all, not even if it made him feel slightly strange to be putting all his things away in someone else’s bedroom.

He picked up a t-shirt and examined the back. STAFF, it read. He had no idea for what. The Broad Barn’s secondhand clothing pile was vague at best and hazardous at worst.

Another part of Caleb, the part not fully consumed by the current task at hand, registered the faintest sound outside. It was ruled out as being not important.

Caleb produced another shirt. This one had a picture of a cat on it, red beams of light shooting out from its eyes. This had been a New Dawn present from—surprising to everyone—Yasha.

It had thus far found a long and happy life as the top half of Caleb’s pajamas. He’d tried to wear it in public once, and been bullied mercilessly by Beauregard.

On the other side of the room, past the drawers and the bed, was a small folding table that had been set up by Essek, likely as a desk. It was the sort of low contraption that eliminated any possibility of chairs, but it made a lot of sense for apartment living and was sized well enough for sitting on the floor. It was miles above Caleb’s old arrangement, a piece of plywood on a milk crate.

Right now, this new desk was covered in reams upon reams of notebook paper. Contrary to expectation, however, this paper was not lined with the standard narrow rule of most academic stationary. Instead, a pattern of lines and circles extended out from the center of the page, covering every inch in an odd spiral. Dozens upon dozens of these sheets were strewn about now, with hasty pencil-markings splattered across the page.

A particularly keen-eyed individual might have noticed that some of the markings were crossed-out. Redoubled, re-arranged, re-placed, or removed.

A particularly keen-eyed individual with the right kind of background would have noticed immediately that many of these runes were transmutative.

Back on his side of the bed, Caleb was humming.

—

When the cat—the familiar, likely a fey one, at that—did not decide to claw Essek’s eyes out, he gingerly picked it up under its forearms and carried it out of his bedroom.

He entered the living room, and saw that it was empty. The curtains were drawn open, however, and at this point the late-summer sun was just beginning to crest low over the horizon.

Essek raised an eyebrow at Frumpkin. “So. Where is your master, hm?”

Frumpkin meowed. It meant absolutely nothing to Essek, but he nodded anyway on principle.

“I understand that you are…well, from what I think I know about ordinary cats, you might like to wander around. But the same rules that apply to your wizard apply to you as well, okay?”

He walked Frumpkin into the living room and put him down on the couch.

“I would appreciate it if you did not enter my bedroom without invitation. The study as well, yes? Meow if you understand.”

Frumpkin stared at him. Frumpkin opened his mouth. Frumpkin closed it again.

It was a vague enough gesture that Essek could not tell if this was a response. He sighed.

“This is why I never bothered with getting one of you, you know. And I’m not even talking about the food bills. Er…do you eat?”

Frumpkin repeated the gesture. Essek repeated it back at the cat in a burst of childish impulse, then caught himself.

Gods, talking to Verin yesterday must have put him in an odd mood. And his brother had kept going on and on about life back in Rosohna, about how wonderful it is, Essek, how much Mother misses you, Essek, how I wish you’d visit, Essek—all that nostalgia couldn’t be good for the mind. Especially when unsolicited.

Still, this did not stop him from checking his messages in the kitchen while he waited for his morning—afternoon—evening—coffee to brew. In the background, Frumpkin rolled over on the sofa. Verin had mentioned something that he’d wanted to talk about, that he’d send over later…

Essek opened up their conversation. Then he scowled.

—

A solitary figure stalked through the dimming streets of Nicodranas. She stretched, working out the knots in her back, upper arms, feeling the scabs on her knuckles and their sting.

She grinned, wide and toothy, in the sunset.

Unconventional, but it worked.

—

Caleb had a perfect memory, and never forget anything. As such, the three core tenets of his tenancy in this apartment were virtually scored into his mind.

Be quiet. Be organized. And do the recycling.

Now he stood outside the apartment complex. The winding streets formed a gentle little plaza where the neighboring buildings all shared an open space, which included the public recycling cans.

There hadn’t actually been that much to take out, aside from an empty carton of ramen, a few cat food tins, and some assorted items that Mr. Thelyss must have left behind last night. Still, Caleb had wanted to prove how serious he was about following the Code of Conduct, and so had made the journey downstairs to be a responsible citizen.

The breeze wound around his ankles. Nearby, a few kids were running around with their mother, and a jogger moseyed past their street. It was a peaceful sight, underscored by the distant call of gulls and a setting sun.

Caleb had just nudged open the lid of the recycling bin when the shouting began.

Actually, it was less of a shouting and more of a heated argument, augmented by the harsh syllables of a language that Caleb did not recognize.

If he had, it would have sounded something like this:

“—impossible! I refuse. I did not give my permission—”

“Permission? Why would she need your permission—”

“Because it is my house! And this is my city—”

“Your city? Brother, you’ve only been there a few months—”

“It’s been a year and a half, Verin. A peaceful year and a half, mind.”

“Really? Well, I am certain it will remain that. And anyway, she’s not even going there for you.”

“Hah! I have a feeling that she is visiting Nicodranas expressly to do so. The gala is just an excuse for her to come here and poke into everything I’m doing—”

“Look, look, don’t shout at me. I am just the messenger. If you’re so upset, go and call Mother—”

Caleb swung the bag into the can. As he closed the lid, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself surreptitiously scanning the perimeter with the universal creep of eavesdroppers everywhere.

Quickly, he found the source of the sound. There was a figure standing in front of his building, pacing back and forth underneath the awning, waving one hand around in frustration. The shadows prevented him from getting a better look, but the figure seemed lithe, and very annoyed.

Caleb would have to slip past him to get back inside.

Tactically, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be incredibly engrossed with its contents. Luckily, it seemed to work—and out of the corner of his eye he even noticed the figure hastily stepping aside.

Then, unluckily, the figure followed him.

Caleb didn’t dare look up. But he could feel the stranger’s presence trail him all the way into the elevator, then settle down next to him as the doors slid shut.

Caleb went to hit the number four. So did the stranger. Their fingers collided.

“Ah—"

“Scheisse, I am sor—”

And then he stopped.

Caleb Widogast was decidedly not a man of the world. He’d never left the continent of Wildemount, for instance, nor could he claim to have seen everything it had to offer. But he had fancied himself rather well-read, and believed that he perhaps had experienced more than the average person.

This was the first time in his life that he’d seen a dark elf.

He knew that they existed, of course, but in the way that he knew the names of far-off places, as distant trivia irrelevant to his life. He knew, for example, that they were native to Xhorhas, and that many of their societies lived underground. He knew that their closest civilization was ruled by a powerful queen. He also knew that in less-polite circles, some Empire elites still believed them to be backwater savages and monsters.

This one was wearing a green t-shirt. His hair was a messy sweep to one side.

“—ry.” He finished, as quickly as he could.

The dark elf shrugged. His eyes—a pale slate gray—took in Caleb’s appearance, then the number they’d both pressed.

“I do not recall ever seeing you,” the elf said. His voice was still a little strained, as if something from before—that argument, perhaps—was bothering him immensely.

“I, ah, I’m new,” Caleb said.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Then he turned back around to stare at the door. Caleb was more than happy not to engage. He just hoped he hadn’t stared long enough to offend a potential neighbor.

The elevator rose three floors. On the fourth one, it stopped.

He quickly ducked out, sandals pattering on the ground, and it was only once he’d gotten to the door of his apartment and started to punch in the code that he realized the elf was still behind him, still standing there, still annoyed, and so he turned—

—

“Excuse me,” said Essek tetchily. “Why are you entering my home?”

The human blinked.

“Er…this is…where I live.”

“What? But—”

For the second time that day, Essek realized.

“Um,” said Caleb Widogast. “Would your last name...happen to be ‘Thelyss’?”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #shadowgast #fanfiction #long post #REALLY LONG POST #im so sorry if the break doesn't work dfhgjk #fanfic #cr2 #the mighty nein #modern au #now what are the chances of that #jay writes #text

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tamyrawilliams · 3 years ago

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TASK #006: THE LONELIEST NUMBER

July 30th, 1966

Tamyra’s eyes popped open early in the morning, excitement coursing through her body. She’s been waiting for this day for a week now, counting back the days and getting worse and worse at sleeping through the night because she was just so excited. And now it was finally here.

Her birthday!

Nakeisha and her parents weren’t home, they’d fly in towards the end of the week, but Tamyra was excited because Nakeisha and her had plans for the weekend to celebrate and play and she missed her friend. But. But! Her parents were coming home and she was bouncing from excitement.

She hasn’t seen her mom in two weeks and her dad even longer and they talked at night when they could, but not being taken along to either of their shoots, instead being home alone with a nanny (an annoying, strict, ugly, cruel nanny at that - but really, all of them were, Tamyra didn’t like any of them) but that was over now. At least for today, she expect not to see the nanny at all!

She peeked out from under the cover and almost expected her parents to walk in, cheerful and smiling and celebrating her, but nothing happened. They didn’t know she was up yet, she would have to go to them, so she jumped out of the bed, hugging her little plush to herself and practically run out of her room, calling out for her parents.

They weren’t in their room, so she kept calling them, heading downstairs. They’d be in the kitchen or the living room anyway, preparing for her birthday. But as she went downstairs, she couldn’t see anyone in the living room, setting up for a celebration - but it was fine, it was early, they probably thought that she would still be sleeping for a good chunk of time. She wasn’t good at waking up early unless she was forced to.

The real cold shower came when she went into the kitchen and instead of seeing her parents quietly chatting over that stupid bitter beverage, the nanny was there, cooking something. “Oh, Miss Tamyra, didn’t think you’d be up yet. Figured since it was your birthday, I’d let you sleep in. If there’s one day for that, it’s when a young girl turns eight, right?” she was being sweet, smiling at her, but all Tamyra heard was the nanny (no, she didn’t know her name, she never learned their names because she chased them all away, what was the point in learning the names?) being evil and possibly hiding her parents from her.

“Where’s mom and dad?” she asked, accusations in her voice, but really, she was just hiding the desperation and the fear in her voice. They promised they’d be here! Sure, she couldn’t talk to them in the last couple of days, but they were always here on her birthday! Always!

“Your mother called early this morning saying her flight was delayed, she’d be here as soon as she could, and your father is trying his best, but some schedule changes happened and said he wouldn’t be able to be here until the weekend. He says he’s very sorry and made me promise to call him as soon as you woke up. Come, we can do that now.”

Tamyra just stared as the nanny came closer, probably trying to wrap her arm around her and lead her towards the phone, but the last second she surged back, stomping with her feet. “NO! I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO HIM ON THE PHONE, I WANT HIM HERE! WHY ISN’T HE HERE?” she screamed. “I WANT MY MOM AND DAD! IT’S MY BIRTHDAY, THEY’RE ALWAYS HERE! THEY NEED TO BE HERE!”

But it didn’t matter how much she was screaming or crying or demanding for her parents to come out from hiding because it wasn’t funny, it was her birthday they should just celebrate together, nothing happened and after what felt like an eternity (both for Tamyra and the nanny, really), she finally quieted down, but she did not feel like celebrating at all, even though the nanny was making cake when she came downstairs instead of just cooking, made her favorite cake, actually, and apparently her parents have already bought her present before they left so the nanny tried giving it to her, but she didn’t want any of it.

Tamyra simply went up to her room, sat down onto the windowsill, hugged her little plush as hard as she could, and spent most of the day looking out the window, waiting for her mom, who was apparently trying to at least get home, finally arrive. She was crying periodically, quietly sniffing through the rest of the time, feeling more and more alone as the time went on.

But it didn’t matter, how much she waited, how much she silently begged for her mom to at least get home, the minutes, hours have passed and nobody came and she just felt more and more alone. Her parents were supposed to be here! They were supposed to be here!

Lanelle Williams arrived home that day when it was already dark outside, no light shining through her daughter’s room. It was almost midnight, and as she went up to Tamyra’s room, she found the little girl clutching her plush toy hard, halfway still sitting up on the windowsill, hunch over, her face against the window as she slept. The remains of tears were visible on her face, and Lanelle’s heart clenched as she carefully picked up her daughter and moved her to her bed. She hasn’t picked up Tamyra in so long, she was such a big girl now, but she couldn’t just leave her there and she didn’t have the heart to wake her up, either.

Tamyra did wake up, though, when her mom was setting her down in her bed, took one look at her mother and started crying again. “Why didn’t you come?”

July 30th, 1994

Tamyra’s eyes popped open in the morning, but all she wanted was to turn around, close her eyes and fall back to sleep. Forget where she was, what day it was, forget so much of the past year. She just wanted to skip that day so desperately.

Her birthday wasn’t her favorite day of the year in a really long time, not since she was eight, and she avoided it as much as she could. Granted, her parents made an effort each year, especially after the disaster of her eighth, but she never cared for it and mostly put on a forced smile for them or anyone who was around her and wanted to celebrate her.

And on that day, she wished more than any other time to just be normal because then at least she could hide what day it was. But there were people around who knew it was her birthday, already made comments about it, when she just wanted to be alone.

Her birthday.

She considered just sticking around in her hut. Her halfway done hut that peopel were probably coming to help build today, too. So remaining in bed was out.

She groaned and got out of her bed and collected herself - a couple of bottles of water and some fruit and then she was off, for once walking in the shadows of the island as she headed down to the beach instead of basking in everyone’s attention. People still found her, some of them even wished her happy birthday (and then more and more, as other people overheard), but she just smiled, thanked them and kept walking. She needed to get the fuck out of here, she needed to be alone.

And unfortunately she got it. Not much later, she was sitting on the beach of the jag, staring out into the distance, feeling like she was eight again, wanting to scream, cry, beg for her parents to just show up for her birthday like they usually did. Just show up and get her out of here, get her away from this hellhole, embrace her and tell her her next birthday would be better, so much better.

The loneliness was staggering, overwhelming, damaging in that moment.

It didn’t come that morning, it’s been building and building, even before the island, really. It started a couple of months before the crash, when she’s seen the purple hair, the so familiar features, that curve of neck that she tried completely forgetting, and she panicked and ran home, calling Nakeisha, the one single person who actually knew what happened. Maybe it was time to talk about it, time to get some of it off of her chest. But when she called her friend, she was having a party and Tamyra did what she did best - acted and reassured her friend that she was fine, she just wanted to check in.

And from that point on, it just built and built and built inside of her, small moments that she wanted to brush aside having bigger and bigger effects on her but it was going to be fine, she was going to be fine. She was fine alone, she loved it. She was so excited, when she was finally visiting Nakeisha, but then that turned into the biggest shitshow of her life, and now here she was surrounded by people on an island where there was no way out, and even the people she actually enjoyed hanging out with, she felt so detached from them all in that moment.

She felt alone like she’s never felt before and it felt like it would overtake her and swallow her up whole. She almost drowned not long after she got to the island when she was trying to test her abilities, and that is what she felt like now, too. Underwater, everything so close and yet so far away, her ears ringing as she was trying to pull herself up, pull herself out, but there was no getting out now. It was just this island, the pain and the loneliness.

That was all she had.

She silently cried through most of the day, hugging her legs to her chest, leaning against a rock as she waited, hoped, prayed, begged for anyone to come and get her, come and make this day bearable, but nobody came. She fell asleep leaning against that rock, still hugging her chest, but this time, her mother didn’t come and carry her to bed.

This time, nobody came.

#stranded task #stranded task 6 #task 6: the loneliest number #everyone on the dash: having the most fun #my brain: time to whip out the sad #tasks #family

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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years ago

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For we rise and we fall, and we crash on the coastlines (Only our love will last 'til the end); Chapter 1

thank you to @drowninginstarlights for editing! Heads up for Travis’ and Gable’s terrible dad’s and mom death!

the journey of a selkie, a cursed fisher, a lighthousekeeper, her aprentice and a very confused mortal as their lives intertwine and the magic around them grows.

or a selkie au with general folklore themes!

In the end, Uriel doesn’t even remember what happened. All they have are pieces of their memories, flashes of knowledge. They remember being afraid of the sea, ever since they were young. They grew up in a big coastal city, where the sea was as much your enemy as your only source of income. They remember their father, a deeply unpleasant man. They remember anger. They remember a fire, and a boat sinking, and they don’t think they’ll ever be sure what actually caused it, but that doesn’t matter. There was no doubt in their father’s mind that it was caused by them.

They remember, before that, being in school and being taught not to curse people, not even as a joke, and certainly not on the sea. Magic is finicky business. It doesn’t take much for things to get out of hand.

So here’s the thing. They remember their father spitting his last words at them, but they can never remember the exact phrasing. Must have been something like “may you dwell upon the sea forever,” or “may you never stray far from the sea.” It must have been, because they remember thinking Odd words for a dying man .

There is power in the last words of a dying man, they did not think.

After that, they couldn’t drown. They remember not being able to drown. They don’t remember the months after, the ones they must have spent on some shore somewhere, slowly realising something in their father’s wording must have made it so they couldn’t die. So they couldn’t ever leave.

They stared out to the vast expanse of the ocean, now both their prison and only companion.

William’s father hated magic. He was a wealthy man whose money made money, and he’d never seen any point in such frilly business as magic.

William’s mother, however, had loved magic. Not only that, she’d respected it, and believed that it was important to teach it, as much as any of the other fundamental truths about the universe. There were even whispers that her own mother had come from the sea itself.

Like anything his father hated and his mother loved, William adored magic. He’d stand and stare with great intent whenever his mother had shown him even the most basic of protection charms. But then she’d fallen ill, and then suddenly she was gone. Really gone, gone as in there was no trace of her left in the house, not even her body. It hadn’t taken long for Father to get rid of all her possessions too.

“She’s gone back to the sea,” William would tell people. They’d look at him uncomfortably, clearly thinking this was just a child struggling to process grief, but he always knew better. The only thing he always wondered is why she hadn’t taken him with her.

Years later, his father was on a trip and William was alone. He had grown up attempting to forget about his mother, about everything, but he couldn’t. He’d grown up to enjoy being left alone in his vast house where he never felt at home, spending the downtime between his father’s presence nursing his wounds.

He stared out of the window of the penthouse, dreading his father’s return, hoping with every inch of him that his father’s ship wouldn’t make it to port.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand there any longer, so he turned inwards. There wasn’t much left of his mother’s teachings in the house, his own memories turned fuzzy with time, but he had managed to snatch a single grimoire from the library. Bargains were easy, he imagined, and especially so for him. He too, in some way, belonged to the sea.

So in the middle of a dark, cold night, while the full moon hung heavy in the sky, he went to plead to the waters.

“I am not, I must admit, entirely sure what this whole deal is,” he said, the moonlight shining off the sand around him, “But you took my mother from me.”

He looked at the lapping edges of the water. The sea remained just the sea. The waves came and went.

“I get that you won’t just drown my father for me, and I don’t particularly have much to offer but-” he shuddered a bit, knowing what he was about to do was cruel and very dangerous, “You can take me, William.”

As he spoke his name, the wind picked up suddenly. It smelt of salt and distant rainfall.

“You can take me like you took my mother,” he continued, “And in exchange, I want you to make sure his ship doesn’t get here.”

The sea seemed to agitate, the waves picking up, dark even in the moonlight.

“Did you hear me?” he yelled, raising his voice over the rushing wind, “You just need to drown-”

As he spoke his father’s true name, the world went black.

He hadn’t expected to wake up, after that. It seemed fair enough, a life for a life. Maybe he would get to be a cool water spirit, scaring tourists. Or maybe a fish, with no memories at all. He did not expect to wake up and find himself a seal.

He knew about selkies, sure, but waking up and being a seal was still a shock. He stared at this new body, his new completely different body, attempting to rationalize what he knew was true - that it was him.

The other thing he did not expect was to wake up looking onto the ocean, and seeing a storm raging. There was a ship, tossing up and down with the waves, a very familiar ship. It was so close to port, but he knew that it couldn’t make it. It was sinking. His father’s ship was sinking.

He knew it was the sea showing him their deal was signed. He hadn’t known, not truly, the enormity of his choice until he stared at it, burning in front of him. He didn’t know how to feel as he stared into the sinking ship.

How many people had he just killed? What was he supposed to do?

He stayed there for a long time, looking on until the ship fully disappeared under the waves. Eventually, when there was nothing but dark wreckage on the surface, he dove down into the water. Time to learn how to be a seal.

At least now he didn’t have to be human anymore. At least then he could swim far away, see where the ocean currents take him.

It’s not like there was anyone at home missing him anyway.

Eventually, Uriel got their hands on two things: a small living, and a fishing boat. The boat was just a little too small for them, but it was cozy. She was old enough that her boards creaked in the wind, ropes faded and fraying, and the paint was so worn that her original name was entirely illegible.

Uriel couldn’t die, and they couldn’t leave the waters for too long,or they got antsy. They’d never gone away for long enough to test the ocean's patience, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the consequences. So living on the water was their only option, and as they still enjoyed food and food cost money, fishing it was.

It was a lonely existence, but they discover you can get used to even the loneliest things. They had eternity in front of them to learn how to do their job, and do it well.

They settled in a small town by the name of Safe Harbour. Uriel knew painfully little of magic to understand the how or why, but the town was protected somehow and the magic was strong. Everyone was perfectly content to buy Uriel’s fish, and never talk to them unless they spoke first.

Routine took over and life was almost pleasant. Uriel wasn’t exactly happy, but they imagined this is as happy as people like them got to be, so they pressed on. There was always more fish to be caught.

William met Uriel the only good way of meeting people, which is while robbing them. By now, he was perfectly capable of hunting for his own food, but it was such a chore, and a boring one at that. Other seals could tell he was different, that the sea owned him in a different way, and anway, he couldn’t actually talk to them. He didn’t have to be a seal, all the time. But it wasn’t like he could really talk to the humans either, and the vulnerability of being human once again always set him on edge. So he stayed a seal, and passed back and forth through towns, being a general nuisance.

The only consistent thing about his life these days was stealing, and that was practically second nature. So he didn’t think anything of it when he swam up to a small fishing vessel to get his lunch for the day.

He managed to climb up on the deck, and was about to flop back into the sea, triumphant with a fish in his mouth, when he heard a loud voice.

“Hey!” they shouted.

He froze, turning to look at the irate fisher. He wasn’t the type to be afraid, not anymore, but this person was incredibly tall with long, flowing hair that was almost stark white tied haphazardly back. They had the look of someone who had been on sea for years, but they also didn’t look older than maybe their late twenties. They were also holding a harpoon, pointed menacingly at him.

He wasn’t the type to be afraid, but he was, perhaps, a little nervous.

“I swear those damn seals get smarter every time,” they muttered.

He dropped the fish out of his mouth and sighed. “I have always been this smart, I'll have you know.”

This made them pause, looking at him baffled for a second before they let out a cry and charged at him with the harpoon.

“Whoa, okay no need to be rude,” he said, attempting to quickly move out of the way. But he was, in fact, a seal, and seals aren’t made for quick motions on land, to his dismay.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. He transformed into a man.

The stranger stopped again, the harpoon dangerously close to his body.

“Who are you? And what are you doing on my boat?” they say.

Travis couldn’t help but grin as he held up his hand, with his fish clutched in it. “I feel like it’s rather obvious.”

Uriel didn’t know how to feel. There was a man on their boat. That’s an undeniable fact. First there had been a seal, and now there was a very annoying silver haired stranger, wearing a ridiculous coat and actively stealing their fish with his bare hands.

They could deal with seals. They could deal with other sea creatures. They weren’t in any way prepared to deal with this.

“Asking for names, just like that?” he said, “How rude of you.”

They could feel more annoyance bubbling up inside them. “I wasn't asking for your name!”

The stranger smirked at them again, clearly enjoying getting them riled up. They should have harpooned him to death then and there. They’ll never know why they didn’t.

“Well, you may call me Travis Matagot anyway,” he said magnanimously, dropping the fish and extending a hand.

They stared at it incredulously, before deciding that their life was already so weird, this might as well happen. They shook it.

“You can call me, uh…” they said. It had been so long since they had to give out names like this. “Gable,” they settled on eventually.

“Like the roof thing,” he said, deadpan.

Gable felt their cheeks heating up. “Shut up!” they said, still holding a lowered harpoon in their other hand, “You were stealing from me, what makes you think-”

“I was hungry,” he said, shrugging. He seemed harmless, if very annoying, so they cautiously put the harpoon down.

“Can’t you fish? You are a seal part of the time, apparently.”

Travis visibly relaxed a little once they’re no longer armed. “Now, why would I, when I can have others do it for me?”

“You could have just asked me,” they said.

Now it was Travis’ turn to be taken aback. He stared at them. “What?” he said.

“I have a lot of fish soup,” Gable said, knowing what they were saying is surreal but being certain that by now they were far too late to stop this trainwreck of a conversation.

“Like in general?” he seemed almost amused.

“I always make too much,” they admit.

That's how Travis ended up in their painfully crowded combined kitchen and living room, his coat draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on, staring at a hot bowl of fish soup.

He almost wondered if he ought to accept food at all, but although he didn’t know what to make of Gable yet, they certainly didn’t seem the type to trap him eternally by feeding him.

Gable stared at him, almost self consciously. He almost wanted to pretend he didn’t like it, just to see how they’d react, but regrettably he was hungrier than he thought, and the soup was surprisingly good.

“You liked it,” they said, grinning.

“It was fine,” he said, stopping himself just short of asking for seconds.

“I have spent a lot of time perfecting that soup, Travis.”

He laughed. Time had been something of a laughable concept for a while now. “Well, can’t have been that long. How old are you, twenty five?”

That made his companion pause. They looked down and, honest to god, started counting on their fingers. “Probably forty by now,” they said, looking at him sheepishly. “No clue what that is in seal-man years, or whatever.”

He stared at them, somewhat intrigued at last. But not enough to pry, certainly. “First of all, you must have heard of selkies before,” he said. They gave him a blank stare that meant they honestly probably hadn’t. “And I don’t know either, we don’t age, exactly.”

Gable shrugged. “Sure, did you want more soup?”

“Well if you insist,” he said, passing his bowl to them.

They fell into this new routine together easily. Travis would come and try and steal things or otherwise be an annoyance. Gable would threaten him with increasingly odd weapons or just bodily throw him off the side.

And sometimes Travis stayed, and ate Gable’s repertoire of fish based dishes, or mucked about in the small space of the boat. They both occasionally went to town, although mostly separately, as Gable had the reputation of a gentle constant and Travis was rather more of a trickster cryptid.

They never talked about the pasts that plagued them or the curses on their heads, and they were both entirely too stubborn to admit this is the happiest they had been in a very, very long time.

There wasn’t a single moment that they realised they had become friends, and certainly not one they acknowledged. There was only a night, and a tipsy Travis falling asleep on the couch, his silver gray coat left behind, still slung over the chair he usually ate at. There was only a morning Gable spent staring at it wistfully, telling themselves they shouldn’t read into it.

There was him waking up, not for a second doubting his coat would still be there, safe and untouched.

And so in the fragile silence of their friendship, time pressed on.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #campaign skyjacks #travis matagot #gable skyjacks #trable #selkie au

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

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Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Freshman year was all about the failed friendships. Sophomore year was all about the lack of a social life. Junior year was supposed to be about focusing on school, until Bucky Barnes came along.

Word Count: 3245

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), FUCKBOI BUCKY, MINORS FUCK OFF!

A/N: Reputation, as a title, was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name. This is my entry for @buckysmischief‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I know I’m a few days late but I started a fic with smut in the first chapter so... it took some time to perfect it. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. It’s been 11 months since then and I finally did it. This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. Better!Bucky is back, but he’s at NYU now. I DON’T OWN THE GIF & I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. You firmly believed that when you first arrived at NYU two years ago. Leaving your small town just outside of Philadelphia for the Big Apple, you had so many hopes and dreams when you got here. Education was your priority, but you had been so eager to meet new people and try new things just as much. After all, it’s all anyone who knew had told you. College is the place where you would meet your lifelong friends.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Freshman year was all about newfound friendships. New kids huddled together in an unfamiliar environment, leaning on each other because being on your own for the first time in your lives was not easy. It was inevitable. It was human nature. A new environment meant the search for a sense of belonging. You had found that for yourself too.

A large group of friends, all ten of you being freshmen, you would claim one of the large round tables in the dining hall after your late afternoon biology lab. You ate, you talked, and you walked back to your dorms together. It became a ritual. But expecting that this kind of ritual would last until the end of your undergrad was a naive judgement to make.

By the end of that year, half of your friends had managed to switch to a different program and found another group of people to hang out with. The ones that remained in your group had managed to join their preferred extra-curricular activities and made more friends who shared the same interests. While you did manage to find the time to volunteer with the UNICEF chapter on campus, you hadn’t managed to make any close friends from that.

Sophomore year was to be the loneliest of years. The one friend you thought you would have for life had managed to ditch you for her sorority sisters – not that you had a problem with that. Your friendship had been hanging on a loose thread for a while before it came to a rather abrupt end. People grew up within the first two years of college, and people who grew up also grew apart from each other. It was inevitable. Margaret Sykes was also a complete fucking moron as she was, but that’s a story for another time.

Now in your junior year, you were starting to get back into the swing of things. After landing an on-campus job as an office assistant, you were hoping to keep yourself busy with your full-time course load. No time for fake friends, or real ones at that. You were finally moving on with your life, leaving behind those who had left you behind for good. After all, college was also supposed to be the best time of your life even without those lifelong friends. You might as well make the most out of the experience and build yourself a career.

It was the weekend before classes were to begin, and you found yourself sitting alone in the dining hall with a slice of pizza that was now getting cold. Having picked up your textbooks from the campus bookstore earlier that day, you decided to grab a bite before you would retreat to your dorm room for the remainder of the night. Perhaps you could get a head start on your readings.

Your lack of a social life seemed to be a blessing when it came to how you had planned ahead for the semester. When you weren’t working or volunteering, you would be studying and sleeping. One thing you had learned the hard way from your years of pulling all nighters – they did not work for you as they did to most people. Micro-planning might just be the way to survive the next two years.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a large group of friends sitting at the same table you used to sit at during your freshman year. You could not help but roll your eyes, an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Naive freshmen, you assumed they were. They’d learn the harsh truth in the next few months.

You took a bite of your pizza slice as you looked out the window that you had been sitting by. The breathtaking view of Washington Square Park reminded you of your first day in New York when you had stepped out of your dorm room to take a stroll. The summery weather of New York City had brought students, tourists and locals alike to the heart of campus. You loved this city and campus for how lively it was – a true multicultural land of opportunity.

New York had become home to you in the last two years, despite the dull memories of lost friendships. Moving to New York had been the right thing to do for your education. NYU really was the place for students to be. You had no concerns about the academics here as you did the social aspects of your life. But you wondered if you really wanted to stay in the city after graduation. You had no reason to stay, no one to hold you down in the Big Apple. Moving back to your parents’ house in Philadelphia was an option for you. Your father had been hoping that you would return home after graduation and take over the family business from him, but you wanted to do more than just blindly follow in your parents’ footsteps.

Speaking of footsteps, the sound of someone approaching your corner table made you turn back from the window. Your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you recognized the dark haired man who was walking up to you. He donned black skinny jeans and a red Henley, his long brown hair parted down the middle. It was a few inches longer than the last time you had seen him. A part of you had often wondered how hard it must have been to maintain those luscious locks of his. The shine and volume alone put the ladies to shame.

“James.”

James Barnes, or Bucky as he was referred as by his closest friends, had been your neurobiology tutor during your freshman year. After failing your first quiz on the effects of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin on the brain, you had approached your professor in desperate need of help. You needed to pass that class in order to complete your degree and failing your first quiz was not a great start to your freshman year. But you had been so determined back then to succeed academically. You still were.

Professor Van Dyne had been gracious enough to assign one of her best upper year students to help you get your grades back up. According to her, James was the teacher’s pet in the biology department and the best person to study with. His photographic memory had allowed him to maintain a consistent 4.0 GPA since his freshman year. As impressive as that sounded, his reputation precedes him. He was known around campus, or at least within the biology students, as the Casanova of New York University.

Rumours across the Greek life circuit on campus – Bucky was the resident fuckboy. It was an untold truth around NYU that he had slept with at least one person in every sorority. According to Margaret, one of the sororities even included having a one-night stand with Bucky as part of their initiation. He was apparently the best night anyone could ever have, and even if he never called any one of his flings back, he would still be found lurking around the next party and leaving with someone else later that night. It was apparently a rite of passage - a rite of passage that you had managed to avoid for as long as you had.

“Hey, doll.” He pulled the chair across from you before sitting down at the table. “Long time, no see...”

You raised your eyebrow at him as you set your pizza slice back down on your plate. Picking up a napkin to wipe your mouth and hands, you shrugged your shoulders at him. “What do you want, James?” You asked him, holding up your hand before he could answer the question. You had known him along enough to know what he was going to say. “I know, it’s been two years since I took my first year neurobiology class. And no, you don’t have to show me how oxytocin affects the human brain.”

“You’re really going to break my heart like that, Y/N?” He asked, feigning hurt with a dramatic sigh as he bought his hand up to his chest.

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing softly before shaking your head. He’ll never learn. “Why are you even here right now? I thought you graduated last year.”

“Hey, just because I’ve graduated... summa cum laude, by the way, it doesn’t mean that I’m not welcome here.” Bucky remarked with a smirk plastered across his lips. “I have my own reasons for being here. You don’t own this campus, you know?”

You crossed your arms against your chest, still not breaking eye contact with him. There was no way you would fall for his charm. You had not done so in freshman year or sophomore year and you were not planning on doing it now. “Enlighten me.”

“Did Steve not mention that I got into NYU Med?” He asked you, his smirk not leaving his face.

Steve Rogers was Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the former president of the UNICEF chapter on campus. You had volunteered together for a few charity fundraisers over the years, but you were not as close to him as Bucky was. “Why would he have a reason to mention it?” You asked him as you leaned forward in your seat. “I would have placed my bets on you going to Columbia with him, if I’m being honest. You two seemed to be so inseparable. I can’t believe you just ditched him like that and let him take off.”

It was true. Bucky and Steve were inseparable. After all, they had grown up together since they were young kids. They were always together on campus, having taken a majority of their classes together. It was so rare to see one of them without the other.

“And did you really think that would impress me so much that I would actually end up sleeping with you?”

“Why?” He asked, almost in a whisper as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it working?”

As the sun was finally setting over the New York City skyline, you found yourself perched up naked against a penthouse window in Brooklyn. The view from up here was much more breathtaking than the view of Washington Square Park from the dining hall window. But that was not the reason why you were so out of breath now. You were panting for air as you stared at the reflection of the man who stood behind you. After a heated make out session from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn, you wound up undressed in his bedroom that had a view like no other.

“I can’t believe that actually worked on me... you obnoxious asshole.” Your heart was pounding out of your bare chest as you felt the moisture trickle down your inner thighs, and you tilted your head back.

Bucky had a smug look on his face, one that was filled with just as much lust as it was filled with pure satisfaction. You had finally fallen for his charm, after two years of fighting it. He had seen the way you glanced at him every time he volunteered with you and Steve. He knew that you must have felt attracted towards him, even though you denied it every time he had brought it up.

He licked his lips as he gently pulled you towards him, turning you around so that he could kiss you on the lips rather roughly. “Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, doll.” His hands grasped your bare ass before his fingers slipped between your folds slick with your arousal. “You want me so badly, don’t you, Y/N? Don’t lie to me now. Your soaking pussy speaks the truth.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you trembled to find the right words to say, your cheeks growing hot as did the rest of your body. A soft moan slipped out of you as you felt his cold fingers slide right into your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as you forgot how to stand still. You felt defeated by your own desires, having given in to his advances after fighting it for so long. You really thought you could get through your entire undergrad without being yet another one-night stand on James Barnes’ tally. But tonight, your strike was added to the drawing board with the rest of them.

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you fucked every fucking sorority sister on campus?” You gasped. “They all say that you’re the best night they’ve ever had, Barnes. I won’t believe it until I have proof.” You asked him as you began to unbutton his Henley.

“Getting desperate, are we? You made me wait a few years for this, doll. I’d have to make you wait a little longer now than a few minutes.” He was such a tease. “I didn’t fuck Margaret Sykes though.” He pointed out, a teasing look on his face as he pulled his fingers out of you and motioned you towards his bed. “You two were close in freshman year, weren’t you? And then last year, you purged your Instagram of any photos of her. I noticed.”

You rolled your eyes at his mention of your former best friend, lying back in his bed as you still tugged on his Henley. He was fully clothed while you were naked and exposed – the power that he had over you now, it was astonishing. But you could not deny how desperate you were for him. After all, your own body had lost that fight against your attraction towards this man.

“Don’t bring up that bitch when I’m lying naked on your bed, James.” You told him, shaking your head at him. “If I could purge my own brain of any memories of her, I would.”

He chuckled as he sat down at the edge of his bed, his large hands firmly holding your thighs apart. “You act as though Margaret was the Antonio to your Bassanio, Y/N. It’s not like she would have cut out a pound of her flesh for you if you were ever in debt.” His bright eyes glanced down at your soaking core, his tongue peaking through his parted lips at the sight of just how aroused you were. He liked that he had such an effect on your body, knowing that you were attracted to him as he was attracted to you despite having known each other for years now. He pulled at your folds to get a glimpse of your throbbing clit, brushing his thumb over it in a quick teasing manner as he watched for your reaction.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who reads Shakespeare.” You told him, giggling softly as you placed your arms above your head. It was a sign of you giving him full control of this ordeal; let him do what he was known to do best. After all, he did have a reputation. “But I think it’s so fucking hot that you do.”

Another moan as you felt his thumb over your clit; you bit down on your lips not to make any noise. Bucky had warned you that Steve’s bedroom was just down the hall from his and the last thing you wanted was to have an awkward run-in with the blonde haired man who had taught you all about volunteering for charitable organizations for the duration of your undergrad.

“I can recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in its entirety while I fuck you, if you would like me to.” He joked, his fingers now drenched with your wetness as he slipped them through your entrance once again. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his eyes watched eagerly for your reaction.

“To fuck or not to fuck... that is the question.” You laughed at your own joke before looking up at him, rather seductively, your left hand pinching your swollen nipples as you began to feel the pain between your thighs relieve with his touch. Moaning once again as he slipped another finger inside of you. “Oh fuck, James... you really want to waste your time reciting Shakespeare with me when you could be putting that mouth to better use? What even happened... to your so called reputation of... being the best night everyone’s ever had?”

Bucky chuckled softly as he continued to finger you for another moment, pulling them out only to remove his Henley. “Desperate.” He pointed out with a wink, unbuttoning his jeans and taking them off as well. “Is that what they’ve all been saying about me now?”

“Are you telling me.... that you’re unaware of your own reputation, James?” You asked him as you sat up against his headboard, feeling the moisture between your legs now seeping through the clear white sheets on his bed as you gasped for air. “Your reputation... precedes you.”

He walked to his nightstand to retrieve a condom, hand slipping below the waistband of his boxers to slowly stroke his cock. A tantalising smirk played on his lips. “Well then, why... don’t we... put an end to it?” He asked you, pulling down his boxers to reveal his half-hard cock.

Your eyes perked up at his length. “Damn...” You gasped. “They really weren’t lying.”

James Barnes raised his eyebrow at you before tossing the condom at you. “Do the honors, doll?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You giggled, rolling over in bed so that you could reach him. Your hand wrapped around his manhood before stroking him until he was fully erect.

Bucky hissed at the feel of your touch against his length, shaking his head at you. “Desperate.”

Removing the condom from the package, you put it on him before you looked up to meet his lusty eyes. “Are you saying that you’re not desperate for me at all, Barnes?” You asked him before you pulled yourself on all fours, moving your hair out of the way.

“Two years was a long time, doll.” He admitted, his hands caressing your ass before he let himself slip though your entrance. He took his time to position himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “Let me know if you feel like I’m going too fast or you need me to stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded, eagerly. “Just fuck me already, James!”

“Desperate.”

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. College was the place where one would have the best sex they ever had, and Bucky Barnes really did live up to his reputation that night.

#gabs1kwritingchallenge #reputation #aj writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #Better!Bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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ohmylove--mydarling · 3 years ago

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It’s true what they say about your early-to-mid 20s. This particular span of ten blissful, wanton years is the only time in your entire life where you will ever feel truly invincible. And yes, you absolutely better enjoy it while it lasts. Lithe-bodied, hopeful, capable of both pounding an entire handle of rail vodka all while making it to your 8 am sociology class the next day, they’re a little like your teen years, with one prized difference. Your early-to-mid 20s are blessed with the seemingly novel, universe-bending element of freedom.

And freedom doesn’t simply mean the ability to make stupid decisions without the fear of getting grounded. It also means the freedom to live in an idyllic sort of vacuum, where you’re surrounded by friends – if we’re being honest, the family you get to choose – and cradled in this serene philosophy, this security blanket of an idea that hangs in the air but is never outwardly or directly expressed, that this, all of this, will last forever. That these people will always be there, they will always be around, floating with you in this bubble, as free and easily accessible as a coatrack or your neighbor’s WiFi. Always holding your beer, always holding your hair back (while you puke, or maybe while you cry), always holding your hand. Always at the very least in the peripheral, if not the forefront, of your vision.

During these years you know everything, and yet somehow you know nothing at all.

***

Like most of the sorority sisters I grew close with – and as is probably true with anyone else who pledged a very tiny chapter at an equally tiny school – I don’t remember much about how I met Taylor beyond the first night she “rushed.” Rush is an interesting social phenomenon, for multiple reasons. Picture a gaggle of young college-aged women who typically spend every waking hour of their day primping and glossing and adjusting for the sole purpose of the male gaze. Except this time, their attention is entirely drawn to a smaller group of girls (not that much smaller of a group, if we’re lucky this semester) that they want to impress instead. A frenzy of compliments and genuine interest, a dormant volcano of estrogen and hot girl energy and reciprocation, madly overflowing in a span of two hours over something as innocuous as an ice cream social or tie-dying a pile of crewneck t-shirts (I think we did the “hippie” recruitment theme every other semester). It is one of the very best parts of what is an often problematic-at-best Greek culture, and this rush was no different.

I’m not sure what my first impression of Taylor was, other than that we obviously had the same first name, and oh yeah, she was beautiful– effortlessly pretty but not the least intimidating. I could approach her and talk to her and not feel like a complete toad. She was a little soft-spoken, incredibly polite. I think she wore navy blue. And an aura of genuine kindness seemed to radiate from her with the soft glow of candlelight.

After rush ended and Taylor chose to join our ranks, where she belonged, it felt like she had been in my life from the very beginning. And, though this idea was never spoken, it felt like she would never leave.

***

In a sorority, there is sometimes a tendency, however unintentional, to categorize your sisters, and to turn to certain ones for different needs at different times. There’s the sister you study with, the sister you go on your morning run with, the sister(s) you are always down to party with. There’s the sister who makes amazing grilled cheese, the sister whose dorm is the only place you’ll binge-watch Supernatural. When you’re riding the waves of a breakup, you got mad options: There’s the sister who brushes your hair as you ugly-cry and choke on your own snot, the sister who pledges to hook you up with her brother’s hot friend the moment you’re ready for a rebound, the “dump him sis” sister who yanks your phone out of your hand in the middle of what is probably a very unwise text and threatens to stab him with her eyebrow razor if he so much as looks at you again, the sister who makes you forget the whole thing ever happened, that it ever even mattered.

There’s the maid of honor sister, the future fun wine-aunt sister, the sister you have on speed-dial even though speed-dial isn’t a thing anymore. There are the sisters who teach you how to do winged liner, how to hide a hickey with coral lipstick and concealer, how to chant, how to chug, how to memorize the Greek alphabet and the …numbers (at least for the ones who are most definitely going to ask). There are the sisters whose weddings you bawl at, whose babies you hold and immediately love as an extension of the incredible mother who brought them into this world.

And there are the sisters who teach you grace and humility, strength and resilience, kindness and self-love. The sisters who changed your life for the better the moment they put on your letters, the sisters who hand you the mirror and force you to see yourself just as they see you.

The thing about Taylor was that she was all of these. The whole package. Everything good, all in one.

***

Though our friendship was at its strongest during my college and immediate post-college years, Taylor remained a calming, grounding presence in my life. She married an incredible man who loved her for all the reasons we did and plenty more, and I went to her wedding and cried. She got a job as a nurse at the local hospice, a profession she seemed put on this earth to do. I could picture Taylor in her element there, literally surrounded by an entire ocean of grief, serving as an island of hope, a beacon of light and love for those who so desperately needed all those things, the things she provided us without question even when our lives were comfortable. Soon after – and this thought still makes something in my throat ache – she brought life into this world, a beautiful daughter with both her mother’s eyes and her genuine love and gratitude for life, a joyful curiosity coloring everything she did.

Taylor’s life, we knew, was finally the one she had always deserved.

***

I won’t, and can’t anyway, get into the details of Taylor’s passing. I can say that nothing about it was expected and literally every detail about it is horrific. Personally, it feels like a robbery, like something was taken from me; but on a grander scale, on a scale that actually matters, it is simply heartbreak. Riding the waves of grief not only for my own loss, but for a husband, a child, a family, a community whose lives were upended and whose hearts were crushed by something that simply should not have happened in a universe where they say justice and kindness exist.

Frankly, this grief is unlike any other I have experienced. It has a way of blanketing everything around me, like mosquito netting. It is as thick and choking as a cloud of black smoke, permeating my clothes, filling my lungs, making it impossible to see, so all I can do is desperately cling to whatever gives me the slightest amount of peace, no matter how fleeting. As someone who has always struggled with my faith (and moments like these certainly do not help), I try to remember Taylor’s. It brought her comfort and strength, the belief that God loves everyone so naturally she was going to love everyone, too. And all I can hope is that this belief of hers, this faith, manifested in her final moments. That there was a light, a voice, a presence, something there that reminded her that she was loved. That we knew she loved us, that her family will never be alone, that we will desperately miss her. That her legacy is as wide and expansive as all the oceans.

Her funeral is in a few days. Her funeral, a concept still as foreign as my own.

***

At this point it’s probably clear, but the things I want people to remember the most about Taylor are, quite simply, her kindness and her intrinsic ability to love. She was kind without questioning. She loved without strings or conditions, tirelessly and endlessly. At a time when an icy, impenetrable layer of cynicism seemed to blanket so many of our hearts – including my own – Taylor managed to crack it a little, to let just enough of her light and her warmth in to make a change.

I teased her often – probably too often – for her unbreakable habit of bringing home literally any stray cat she ever found (and then naming it something either really cute or painfully dumb, like “Moe” or “Cheese”). But even as someone who unapologetically hates cats, and more honestly as someone who spent most of her 20s thinking that if I hardened my exterior and never let love in I was somehow protecting everything it surrounded, I viewed this habit through a secret lens of adoration. I adored Taylor’s heart. I hoped to absorb some of it, its ability to love everything, to find beauty in the darkest and loneliest spaces and to also force people to see it and feel it for themselves.

I felt Taylor was going to be around forever. It was a selfish thought. I hadn’t physically seen her in over a year (there was a pandemic and she was a nurse and I was subsumed by my own now meaningless world). I am filled with an omnipresent regret that I have no control over. I miss her so much my heart feels swollen and achy with a pining, a real grief.

There is no happy ending to this, no concise, comfortable, heartwarming way to wrap this all up in a pretty package, though Taylor was the type to want everything to have a good ending. So instead I cling to the memories, the photographs. Our banquets, homecoming, Lana del Rey, cherry blossoms. The way she rapped that entire A$AP Ferg verse one night. The way she looked in her wedding gown. The way she talked about charity and good deeds. The way she talked about God. Her love, no matter what transgression I made or no matter if I failed to give it back. I hope to love harder now, and if I can, it’s because Taylor taught me how.

I love you, Taylor. DZLAM.

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tempered-in-flame · 4 years ago

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Part 0- Reflecting

Welcome to the very very first part/pilot for the story Tempered in Flame! I say this is the pilot because this explains one of the main character's backstory. Hopefully in a couple of weeks, Chapter 1, Of Humble beginnings will be fully edited, and you'll see it on this blog! (P.S. if you reblog this ill be infinitely happy this story as a concept has been rattling in my brain for years and i really want validation) Without further ado, here it is.

Words: 3331

Summary: Azarra Gabree, during a quiet night, finds herself reminiscing on her past, and the regrets surrounding the night she escaped her home town.

Azarra didn’t think about Goldcrest often. The town she was born in held little sentimental value for her. However, she was in a sentimental mood. She had settled in for the night and didn’t have anything better to think about. The most memorable night she could think of was the night she ran away from home.

———————-

I realized too late that I had stayed out with the barkeep’s daughter, Kit, too long. The sun was beginning to set and I was going to be late for dinner.

“Damn it.” I said

“Something wrong?” She asked.

“I gotta go, need me to take you home?” I asked. Usually I didn’t do this to dates, but I knew my parents wouldn’t be happy if I wasn’t home on time, and I was already late as it was.

“I’d get lost without you here, so lead the way.” I could tell she was disappointed, but I was trying to avoid ruining the relationship I had with my parents as it was, not like there was much to salvage.

I hurried out of the woods with Kit, dropped her off near her house, hopefully away from prying eyes, and got to my house. I slowly opened the door and saw I was later than I assumed. Everyone was at the table already. My sister and our parents were all staring at me. Rue quickly looked down as our parents sighed, and Rue became preoccupied with staring into her dinner.

“On the counter. Wash up first, please, Azarra.” Mother said. She sounded exasperated already. That was never a good sign.

“Thanks. Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time.” I said. I carefully washed my hands and took my dinner to the table. My excuse was true this time but I always used the same one no matter what happened.

It had been silent since I had walked in. Rue wasn’t eating, and our parents were staring at each other. I sighed quietly and started eating. Rue was watching me carefully while I avoided everyone’s gaze.

“Can I be excused? I need to use the restroom.” Rue asked. Our father nodded. She gingerly got up and walked out of the room. It was then I knew what was coming. They had talked about me before I came in, and Rue knew what was coming. I slowly looked up at our parents.

“Why can’t you think about something besides yourself, Azarra?” My mother sighed. She had her head in her hands. Rue was a few years younger than me but she was so much smarter, excusing herself every time we’d argue. The fights always upset her.

“I said I was sorry.” I had come home for dinner late. Which means, I was in trouble. I was out for the day exploring the woods, which I was not supposed to do, as a ‘lady’, and may have brought a girl out there to make out with, and we may have done other things. Those things I was especially not supposed to do considering my existence as a ‘lady’.

I told them time and time again that I was not a lady, woman, or girl, or that I did like women and men and that they or I couldn’t help either fact of my existence, but they never listened.

“It’s absolutely foolish! You can’t just go wherever you please. We have to have some semblance of order in this house.” He said. I was pretty sure I absolutely could. Goldcrest had no laws against taking a girl to the woods to make out with, maybe not to do other things with, but no one but us needed to know about that part. We went into the woods on purpose. No one could hear us out there anyway. Until a busybody saw us go out there and told both of our parents. As if we weren’t both old enough to make our own choices. But, as my wonderful parents would say, my house, my rules.

“Can’t I?” I asked. I added fuel to the fire. I was particularly fed up with them both today.

“Absolutely not Azarra. It’s unbecoming of anyone, especially a lady to refuse to follow the simple rules we lay out. Your sister can follow them just fine!” Mother said. She was exasperated. Neither of them knew how to deal with me. They hadn’t wanted to raise a boy, they weren’t raising one anyway, but they weren’t expecting to raise me, either. They really wanted a child like Rue. A quiet decoration to show the neighbors. I felt awful for her.

“Hardly a lady, mother. You know that. And don’t you dare bring up Rue!” I said. My temper rose. “You know this isn’t about her.” I growled. My younger sister was their favorite and I knew it, it wasn’t fair of them to drag her into this fight or compare me to her.

“Your mother is right. You can’t keep staying out so late. And that forest is dangerous. You don’t know what could be out there.” He said. “And besides, your sister is perfectly happy without wandering outside at all hours. Especially with a girl. The barkeep’s daughter no less. You know better.” He continued. I did know better, that much he was right about, I just chose to continue doing what little things brought me any joy in the miserable city of Goldcrest.

“Not you too.” They can’t gang up on me, especially not using Rue as ammunition. “You can’t compare me to Rue like that, it’s unfair.” I said. Any other night I’d lay down and take it. Tonight was different somehow. Tonight I felt bold. “Not like I kidnapped Kit anyways, she went willingly with me. Apparently she had nothing better to do than be with me.” I shrugged, they both sighed. Rue was still hiding. She always excused herself when she saw a fight coming on. She was too good at noticing when we were about to argue.

“It’s not our fault she’s a far better daughter than you are.” Mother spat.

“I’m not your daughter and you know it. Rue understands that at least!” That was the last straw. I told them at least a hundred times that I wasn’t a girl and they still wouldn’t understand that I was nonbinary and wouldn’t be their daughter. They never got it into their heads. At least Rue could mold herself to their expectations.

“Just- just go to your room. We will discuss this more in the morning.” Mother sighed. “I just wish I knew what to do with you.”

I chose to ignore her final remark. “Already going.” I said. I had a plan already to avoid the discussion she wanted to have tomorrow. I was already tired of them trying to run my life for me, and I had better plans for myself. I bit back the retort I had while her last few words hung in my mind.

I walked into the room Rue and I shared. I rifled through my drawers. I tried to not act out loudly and show the argument had gotten to me. They don’t deserve my attention, not with how they decided to treat me. I had been biding my time for a day like this. I had a plan laid out. I’d find the local militia of a nearby town, stowing away onto a ship if I had to. I had some sword fighting skills, and if they don’t know that I look like a girl, they’ll let me fight. After that I wasn’t sure, but eventually I’d get it all sorted out.

After a while, I heard our parents go into their bedroom after washing the dishes. Then I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Azzy? Is everything alright?” Rue gingerly opened the door. She looked tiny standing there. Her hair was neatly braided back out of her face. If everyone told me I looked like our mother, she was the spitting image of our father. Long dark hair, similar to mine, but her eyes were lighter than mine, and significantly more expressive. Right now I could tell she was nervous after the fight. But, she was their favorite of the two of us. She didn’t steal our fathers clothing and not give it back, even if it didn’t really fit properly. Or kiss girls in the woods. Sometimes kiss boys in the woods if I felt like it. She’d probably end up kissing boys when she got older, hopefully our parents wouldn’t give her hell for it like they did to me. I knew the boys weren’t their problem with me, but they had high standards for Rue.

“Everything’s fine. No one got hurt. You heard the fight?” I asked. Of course I knew she had heard. We were shouting loud enough the neighbors could probably hear us. I hoped I hadn’t caused Kit or her parents much grief by keeping her out late too.

“Worst one in a while, huh?” I nodded. Probably the pettiest fight there’s been in a while. Worst one we had was when I came out to them when they’d pissed me off. That was a fight. That was the first one that made Rue cry. I told her beforehand years before I told them. I was fed up that day, like tonight. Tonight, I was ending it for good and removing myself from the situation.

“Not like them shouting will make me stop going into the woods. I’ve wandered out there for years.” I go out there to blow off steam. Typically that means slashing away at stumps with old swords I found out there, finding new places to stash things, and occasionally woodcarving with knives I stole from the kitchen. Sometimes it means taking someone I was dating out for some privacy. Goldcrest spreads gossip quickly. Only takes a couple of the loneliest older women here to notice one thing, then it’s all over town. Nothing like your parents finding out who you’re dating from the neighbors hearing that someone’s been seeing you out with their kids.

Now, those were the big fights. Like tonight. I could admit that tonight I was at my limit and lost my temper worse than usual, not like they didn’t help in the matter. I’d been planning to leave for months, I was grown up enough to survive on my own, I figured, if someone would take me in somewhere or I could find steady enough work. Anywhere would be better than Goldcrest.

“You are stubborn.” She said. Smiling a little. “So, how are you going to fix this one?” She asked. Usually I ‘fixed’ it by ignoring them just slightly less so they’d think I was improving and they’d lay off until I got bold again, then the cycle continued from there.

We’d only escalated to physical fighting once. Even then I just got a split lip from when our father slapped me across the face. The wound wasn’t his fault but it was barely healed over from when I fell the day before. Since then, he never raised a hand against me. He probably felt guilty injuring me like he did, even accidentally. Rue cried all night after patching me back up. I hated worrying her. She was too young to worry so much about me and our parents. Even with her help, it scarred and was still there now, although it had healed better than I expected it would.

“You won’t like it.” I said. I had planned to leave after an argument like that. “I plan to remove myself from the issue entirely.” I shut the drawer. I was haphazardly putting things into my backpack. Then, I had an idea. I went quietly downstairs and took the scissors from the drawer they rested in when no one was getting a haircut. I went back into our room.

“Azzy?” She looked at me quizzically. “That doesn’t sound good.” I felt guilty with her staring at me.

“Can’t we discuss it later? Anyways, I always knew I needed to do something and I want you to do the honors.” I handed my sister the scissors our mother used on our hair occasionally. “Get it as short as you can muster.” I certainly needed some catharsis after the shit our parents pulled all these years. Now was as good a time as any.

“You know they’ll be furious, Azzy, I can’t do that.” She looked worried for me. “Won’t that just make it all worse?”

“They’ll never need to know. Just do it, Rue. I trust you.” I said, pressing the scissors into her hand. She nodded, understanding some of what I meant. I didn’t want to say outright I was leaving her. I knew I couldn’t take her with me. I’d get her hurt- or worse- taking her with me tonight, wherever I was going.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and she knelt behind me.

“You can’t screw it up, I promise. I just want you to cut it all off the first time.” I said. I felt her taking my hair gingerly off from my shoulders, coming it back with her fingers, and finally, cutting the first chunk off. I smiled. I knew she was focusing on trying to cut my hair so I didn’t touch it to gauge length.

“I think I understand what you’re planning, Azarra.” She said. I knew then that she fully understood I was leaving. She only called me my full name if she was upset with me.

“Can’t we talk about that later?” I asked.

“Not if you’re going to leave me.” She said. Her voice was tight.

“After you finish cutting it all off we can talk about it. I promise it’ll all turn out okay.” I assured her. I also was attempting to assure myself that I would be okay doing this. I had planned this for months, I was ready. But I hated leaving rue with our parents. They’d go harder on her with me gone.

“Sure, Azzy.” She said. I heard the scissors opening and closing. She was quiet and we both knew why.

I saw my hair, dark and long, littering the floor of our bedroom. I had waited for this to happen for years. It was the first step on a long road to feeling like myself for once.

“I’m glad you’re doing this and not me.” I said. I tried to lighten the mood. I didn’t think it would work, but I tried regardless.

“Sure you are.” She almost laughed. “Do you want to see how much I’ve cut off?” I nodded, and touched the back of my neck. I already felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I feel a lot better already, Rue.”

“Glad someone’s happy.”

“I have a plan. I promise.”

“Do you want to do the front? I think this is a good length for the back and sides.” She said. I took the scissors from her and found the closest mirror. I slowly cut my hair into almost bangs that matched the choppy, chin length hair Rue cut for me.

“Thanks, Rue.”

“You already look happier.” She said, smiling. I felt like a little kid next to her sometimes. Her smile quickly faded as she remembered why she cut my hair. “What’s your plan?” She asked.

I sighed deeply. “For the militia, and across the water if I can. As far as I can get from this place. Don’t think this isn’t hard for me, Rue. It is. If I had a better plan, I wouldn’t leave you here with them. Remember that.” I said. “And they shouldn’t take it out on you, and if they do, give em hell for me, okay?”

“I know Azzy. And I will.” She mustered a smile. “You got everything?”

“I think so. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She said.

“No promises.” I shook my head before giving her a hug. I heard her sniffle into my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t bear looking at her crying like that. Especially not knowing she was crying because of me.

Eventually we both let go and I turned away. Then I walked out of our room, put the scissors back in their drawer, walked through the rest of our house, and left out the front door. I didn’t leave a note, Rue could clue them in if they didn’t get the message after the fight. They didn’t deserve a note anyways. Rue didn’t deserve to have to lose me. They were fucking terrible to me, and I hope Rue wouldn’t put up with that when I was gone.

I was finally outside and I looked up. The sky looked huge from the ground and it was dark and clear enough to see all the stars and the moon. I stood there for a moment, looking up at it all and taking a deep breath, feeling like I could finally really breathe for the first time.

————-

Azarra sat alone in the woods with her companion, Vil, at her side. A lot had changed since that night. She wondered if Rue was doing okay, she thought about that a lot, then she touched the back of her neck, feeling the short hair she maintained since she left Goldcrest.

She thought about how much she’s changed, the walls she built up after running away, the scars on her face and body from mistakes she made years ago. The body she built for herself with the help of a particularly willing wizard. They didn’t ask questions. She didn’t give anything away.

She thought about the wolf she befriended so long ago, Vil, she called him, and how much he’d grown since then, she’d grown too but not nearly as much as he had, and that he’d been with her since she left the militia before they kicked her out. He was asleep by her feet as she sat with her legs up by the fire.She thought about her sister, too. Rue was the only person Azarra had missed from her old home in Goldcrest.

But Goldcrest wasn’t home now, and she couldn’t go back, she didn’t want to anyway. The only things she had left from there now were the bitter memories of what happened that night and thoughts about the wellbeing of her sister. She hoped she had left them too, Goldcrest wasn’t good enough for Rue. Azarra wasn’t sure even she was good enough for her sister. She kept staring into the flames. Her mind ran in circles while the flames died down. It had been at least 3 years since she left. Rue would nearly be Azarra’s age when she left their home by now. Tears welled up in her throat at that thought. She swallowed it down. It wouldn’t do her any good to reminisce on the past any further than she had right now. She scratched the back of Vil’s neck. He was still asleep.

Eventually she laid down and looked up at the sky. The same stars and moon she saw that night were shining tonight. It was a cloudless night again, and she wondered still if her sister was seeing them this time, and thinking about her, as foolish as it felt to think about. She forced those thoughts down, she had other concerns, like her next job. She was a mercenary now, and mercenaries don’t have concerns like their old families, just their next destination, if they had any destination planned. She’d probably never see Rue again anyway, unless she went back to Goldcrest, and that wasn’t likely to happen.

Slowly she became tired and her eyes slid shut as she was laying on the ground, and finally, she slipped into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

#writing #nonbinary #bisexual #ocs #Azarra Gabree #fiction

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